#ahhh this was such a challenge and so different for me

[elixirfromthestars]

Oh Vinny, college Bucky will always have my heart!! 🥹❤️ And seeing the prompts you used I just knew I was in for the fluffiest treat 🤭🩷🩷

All my feelings under the cut 🤭💕

First off, if Bucky was my roommate I would’ve fallen in love instantly, no hesitations 😌🩷

Bucky's arm is wrapped around you, his warm body pressed against your back as his lips leave a trail of soft kisses over your neck and shoulder. From the moment you two started officially dating, he has made it his mission to wake you up this way every day, and so far, he's succeeded every time.

^ Umm can I please be woken up like this everyday? 💗💗💗 I’m not a morning person, but if I got Bucky kisses every morning then I’d become a morning person so quick!!! 🫶🏼

I’m a sucker for terms of endearment!! ❤️ Angel, princess, etc like yes please keep them coming!! 🥰 The reader and Bucky are just too cute in this like, this fluff is so sweet I’m about to get cavities 🤭🩷🩷

-> Also pumpkin spice pancakes are a need right now ☕️🍁

"What else do I need when I have my whole world in my arms? Unless you're offering to come back to bed with me, in which case I definitely need you to do that!" You roll your eyes playfully as you chuckle, knowing he's always looking for ways to get you back in bed to spend the entire day doing nothing but making love.

^ I wouldn’t object 🤭🩷 Like… 👀✨

Surprising him with a pumpkin patch date is the cutest thing ever!! 💗 Especially because he’s never been to one and the reader wants to tell Bucky I love you in a special way like—AHHH 🥹❤️❤️ And the way he gets all excited 🥺💕

There are a few food stands that sell the most delicious pumpkin and apple treats, as well as a hot chocolate stand, different games having to do with pumpkins, a maze built out of pumpkins, and last but not least, a patch to pick your pumpkin to take home for carving.

^ Can I go here?? 😭❤️ I didn’t get go to any fall festivals or events, so I’m so jealous of these two 🥺🍂🤎

I love that they were able to say I love you to each other in a moment of pure happiness 🥹🩷 Too cute!!!!! Vinny, this was so sweet, so fluffy, and it’s got me all giggly and kicking my feet 🤭💗💗 Thank you so much for participating in my writing challenge with this wonderful piece!!! 🩷🩷🩷

Pumpkin Spice And Everything Nice

Pairing → College Student! Boyfriend! Bucky Barnes x College Student! Partner! Gender Neutral! Reader

Total Wordcount → 2.2K

Summary → Falling in love with your roommate, Bucky, has been one of the best things ever to have happened to you, and he’s showing you every single day how much he loves you. Today, you’ll turn the tables around by taking him on a surprise date after he tells you he’s never been to a pumpkin patch. Together, you will make some memories you will cherish forever, and a tradition might also be born from it.

Tags & Warnings → Canon divergence, college au, roommate au, roommates turned lovers, domestic bliss bursting the seams of this story, implied lovemaking.

Story Rating → Teen

Author’s Note → This story is written for a writing challenge hosted by @elixirfromthestars! This story is inspired by the Stud & Smartie universe, written by the lovely @navybrat817. I have, of course, tried to give my spin to the story, but I believe in giving credit where credit is due, so thank you so much for inspiring this story, Navy! 💜

Writing Prompts @anyfandomfluffbingo → ”Come back to bed.” @elixirfromthestars → College au | “No, I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.” | “What else do I need if I have my whole world in my arms?” | “I like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest.” @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition → Food coma @fandom-free-bingo Medical Edition → ‘I always want you to’ | “I’m here.” | Singing in the shower

Tag List → If you’d like to be tagged in my stories, you can add yourself to my tag list here.

Falling in love with your roommate may have been the best thing ever to have happened to you, apart from starting your new, exciting life on the other side of the country. Even though your parents have always given you everything your heart desired, the one thing you always missed was the freedom to explore the world, and even though moving to New York isn’t exactly the other side of the world, it still felt like a dream come true to move out of the small town you used to call home. Now, your home is your roommate and boyfriend, Bucky.

For the past few weeks, the weather in New York City has changed into your favorite season, and the changing colors are making you feel happier than ever. Autumn has always been the time of year that made you feel the happiest, as cozy days at home with hot chocolate and movie nights with rain in the background have calmed your mind down on days when you needed it most. It also means your favorite activity of the year is returning: visiting a pumpkin patch and enjoying as many pumpkin-related treats as you can handle in one day.

The rain is softly tapping against the window as you’re curled up under the covers of your boyfriend’s room - your bed hasn’t seen any sign of life in a little over a month, as you’ve practically moved into his bedroom, seeing that it’s the larger of the two in your apartment. Even though you lived there first, and he became your roommate about a month into your first semester, you moved into the smaller bedroom on your first day, decorating it into a warm, cozy place that now has turned into your reading room.

Bucky’s arm is wrapped around you, his warm body pressed against your back as his lips leave a trail of soft kisses over your neck and shoulder. From the moment you two started officially dating, he has made it his mission to wake you up this way every day, and so far, he’s succeeded every time. Your days have started better, and you’ve also noticed your sleeping habits have improved since sharing a bed with him. However, it also means that your habit of getting up early has gone out the window now that you want to spend as much time together as possible.

“How do you look even more beautiful every morning we spend together, Angel?”

In Bucky’s words, you can feel the heat surging throughout your body, and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips as he compliments you. Without a second thought, you turn around in his hold, gently kissing the tip of his nose once you’re comfortable.

“I’m not sure. It must be because of how happy you make me, Bucky,” you tell him, your fingers trailing softly over his cheekbone. At this, it’s his turn to smile widely, his cheeks reddening at your sweet words. The love between you two is filling your entire apartment, threatening to burst at the seams, and you’ve been wondering for a while if it’s too soon to say it, but you also know you won’t be able to hold it in much longer. And this is precisely why you have planned a special date today.

“I think it’s about time we get up and get ready for my plans today; we still have to drive a little over an hour to get to our destination,” you tell him, but he shakes his head slightly at the thought of leaving the warm nest you two have created. His eyes meet yours lovingly, his entire face softening as he pulls you in for a gentle kiss that takes your breath away.

“No, I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed,” Bucky whispers, his deep, gravelly voice finding its way deep into your body and soul as it often does. He could tell you anything he wants, and you’d happily gobble it up as long as it means you getting to hear it as much as possible. A soft, almost inaudible moan slips past your lips as you remember what he told you yesterday as you two were making love in this very same bed, your eyes slipping shut at the thought of it.

“What’s on your mind?” Bucky then asks, despite knowing exactly what’s going through your head. Instead of answering, you pull the duvet over your head to hide from him, and he laughs loudly as he pulls you against his chest, where you happily make yourself comfortable again. Your following words sound a bit muffled to your boyfriend, but they make him smile nevertheless.

“I like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest. It’s comforting,” you tell him, and you two stay like this for a little longer until you really have to get out of bed. By the time Bucky is in the shower belting out one of his go-to shower songs, and you’re making breakfast - pumpkin spiced pancakes with maple syrup - the rain has finally stopped, and the sun is starting to appear, giving you hope for the day to turn beautiful.

The warm smell of spices fills the air as your boyfriend comes out of his room, fully dressed and his hair styled in the usual way. His cheeks are still red from the hot shower as he walks into the kitchen, ready to get more cuddles in before breakfast. As you feel his long, strong arms wrapping around your waist, you sink into his hold, his cologne hanging in the air and the spices you used in the pancakes.

“Something smells good,” he says as he puts his head on your shoulder, peeking over at the growing pile you’ve already created. A smile brightens your face as you lean into your boyfriend’s hold, butterflies in your stomach running rampant at the simple touch. Sometimes, it still feels unreal for you to be together, and this is one of those moments, but you cherish every second as if it might be the last.

“Thank you,” you whisper to your boyfriend as you concentrate on flipping the pancake. A satisfied hum is in the air as you appreciate its golden brown color.

“Now, before I go and finish the pancakes, is there anything else you need from me?” you ask with a teasing hint to your voice, but the answer that came from your boyfriend is something you wouldn’t have expected him to say, instead going for something like whipped cream or extra syrup. He doesn’t disappoint, though.

“What else do I need when I have my whole world in my arms? Unless you’re offering to come back to bed with me, in which case I definitely need you to do that!” You roll your eyes playfully as you chuckle, knowing he’s always looking for ways to get you back in bed to spend the entire day doing nothing but making love.

“If I didn’t have something special planned for today, I would have gone back to bed with you, but I’ve been working on today’s plans for nearly a month, and it seems like a waste to let it go by without a second thought,” you tell him softly after turning in his arms, your hands lying on his shoulders.

“In that case, I’m sticking to your plans today, Angel. I wouldn’t want to disappoint my princess,” he tells you, which has a wave of heat coursing through your veins. Bucky leans in to kiss your lips softly, your eyes slipping shut as he does. When he pulls away, you follow him to get more kisses, and he happily gives them before letting you finish the pancakes and setting up some plates and cutlery on the kitchen island where you two have breakfast together nearly every morning.

“Bucky? Where are you?!” you ask again as you walk through your apartment, ready to go but unable to find your boyfriend. It’s like he’s hiding from you without meaning to do so, and when you finally hear his voice, you let out a breath of relief you weren’t aware you were holding in.

“I’m here, Angel,” he yells from the bathroom attached to your now-shared bedroom. His head pokes around the corner as you walk into the room, plopping down a small bag on the bed before walking over to him and pecking him on the cheek.

“Are you ready to go?” you ask him, and he nods with a broad smile, excitement flowing through his body as he does. How you look up at him has him softening, his neck bending to capture your lips with his. It doesn't take long for the two of you to be in your car, singing along loudly to your favorite music while enjoying some snacks you brought in preparation for your date.

Once you're nearing your destination, Bucky is increasingly curious about what you will do. So far, you have given him practically nothing to work with other than saying you're going somewhere he's never been before, and he's still wracking his brain over what it could possibly be.

"I think it's unfair that you're not giving any hints, Angel; how am I supposed to know where we're going if you're not saying anything?" A slight pout on his lips makes you chuckle as you glance over briefly, and your butterflies inside are again going wild.

"I think it's entirely fair because you always surprise me with the most romantic dates, so today, I will give you a taste of your medicine. It might not be as romantic as you leaving rose petals everywhere before cooking me a fancy dinner and taking me to bed afterward, but I'm sure it'll be a close second."

As Bucky looks outside after your comment, a small smile tugging at his mouth, he suddenly spots a large sign for a pumpkin patch, and it all clicks.

"You're taking me to a pumpkin patch, right?!" The excitement is audible as his voice raises slightly near the end. Not too long ago, he confessed to you that he had never been to a pumpkin patch while growing up, so today, you'll change that. After a few hours of research, you found one that's supposedly amazing, and even though it's a nearly three-hour car ride away, you're more than willing to drive to see his first reaction to visiting a pumpkin patch.

"Wait-" he says, narrowing his eyes at you, "- you've been giving hints for a while, huh? The fall decorations, pumpkins appearing in our apartment, the pumpkin pancakes..." As he pieces everything together, you can't help but feel proud of being able to go through this experience with him.

"Hm-hmm."

The rest of the car ride, you two discuss every hint you've dropped, even the ones he didn't pick up on, and when you arrive, it's like heaven's gates have opened based on your boyfriend's expression. He takes you everywhere, eyes growing wide as the two of you take your time taking everything in.

There are a few food stands that sell the most delicious pumpkin and apple treats, as well as a hot chocolate stand, different games having to do with pumpkins, a maze built out of pumpkins, and last but not least, a patch to pick your pumpkin to take home for carving.

The happiness in his eyes is childlike in the best possible way, and he can't stop squeezing your hand in excitement as he takes a moment to stop at every stand and game, wanting to try everything.

"Would you like me to buy you a treat of my choice?" you ask him as you stand in front of a stand that sells countless types of pumpkin—and apple-flavored pastries, as well as drinks such as apple cider and pumpkin-spiced lattes.

"I always want you to choose something for me, Angel. You have the best taste in everything related to baked goods. I'm happy to end the day in some sort of a food coma if you keep choosing these amazing treats," he says, and your mouth curls into a smile as you order two warm apple turnovers and a large slice of a classic pumpkin pie to share. Bucky gets you both a cup of hot chocolate from the stand directly next to it, and once you've found a comfortable spot to enjoy your treats, you're happily diving in.

"Bucky, I have something to tell you-"

"I'll let you finish in a moment, but first, I must tell you something, Angel. I cannot thank you enough for taking me here! The weather is fantastic, the treats are heavenly, and most importantly, it made me realize how much I love you."

As he says the words, you're overwhelmed with emotions, tears brimming at your waterline as they sink in. Knowing that he feels the same about you and loves you is a feeling you could only dream of, but knowing it's true has your heart beating out of your chest from pure excitement.

"I love you too, Bucky," you whisper, followed by a kiss that seals your words. They're finally in the universe, and you couldn't be happier. Out of all the things you thought would come out of going to college, you never in a million years falling in love with your roommate would be one of those things.

Even though your life may not always have been the most exciting, you're now looking forward to the excitement and love Bucky will bring from here on out, starting with going to a pumpkin patch every year to relive the moment you're currently experiencing.

Masterlist → Bucky Barnes

GIF: Source → All the other graphics are made by @vintagebuckybarnes

[cahootings]

OKAY I DID THAT ITS BEHIND ME

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Do you ever see an artist’s work and go like, “that’s my ideal body type” but you can’t track down the original and don’t know how to explain without your screenshots? I know I have the fungus creature’s artist saved on my deviantart somewhere and I’m not going to make it re-blog able because I’m not trying to just steal art here, but I lost track of the cat-ears artist and I need to track them down again so I can source link them too. I don’t want to just steal it(although i found it as a repost on Pinterest) I swear I saw them on deviantart somewhere. How the fuck do i explain that these are the ideal limbs and this is the ideal ear placement? I’m going to track them down and see the sources. I’m only going to show the exact parts I’m referring to as my kind of inspiration? Is seeing an art piece and going “they did it. They got (feature I’ve been trying to draw) down exactly” inspiration or something else? I think it’s inspiration

Here are partial images showing what I’m referring to and the signatures on both pieces.

I’m not saying I want to copy them exactly, just that these are the closest I’ve seen to what i have in my mind and I’m not sure how to describe it. If this is a shitty thing to post I’ll delete it. The (almost) ideal body:

This is why i don’t call myself a furry but instead call myself a freaky catgirl. Furries are into having cartoon animal personas. I’m not sure what the fuck this would be considered. The way the ear looks cat like but also has the ear canal placed lower, and the way those limbs are structured in just the right way to still look human enough while also being prepped for more quadrupedal locomotion. The way the tail seems to extend from the spine and not stick out from the hips awkwardly. It’s so close to what I’m trying to draw, to my ideal design. Closer than any other art I’ve probably seen! There are still some parts of the anatomy that aren’t quite what I’m thinking but are so very close. The tail does still look like it was be awkward during bipedal movement, but it doesn’t look like it’s split from the hip bone (something that slightly bothers me when I’m trying to design my own) and maybe a furry would have a tip about that, but this is so much closer than furry art I’ve seen. I’m obsessed with skeletons so I have weirdly specific pet peeves when making my own characters sometimes. Not always, but sometimes

Update! I found the ear artist! And the original work!

Maybe one of them does commissions

[stunie]

“OH? NEED SOME HELP?”

WIND BREAKER + “HELPING” YOU OUT. ft. choji tomiyama, hayato suo, kaji ren, kiryu mitsuki, sakura haruka, togame jo, umemiya hajime, & sugishita kyotaro x f!reader

filled request: “Bofurin + Shishitoren guys with a gf who has a minor temporary injury that leaves her a little helpless and them realizing they find her helplessness kinda hot.”

mdni - suggestive; 3.1K wc. thank you for sending this in :> it’s been a while since i did lil hcs like this !! hope u enjoy nonnie <3

TOGAME JO.

Togame’s eyes are locked on your mouth.

Or more specifically, the way your pretty lips are currently wrapped around his ramune bottle, throat moving up and down with each gulp of soda that you swallow. It had been your idea to have him feed it to you like this, hold the bottle up to your lips as you sip, eyes gently fluttering shut to better savor the taste.

“I can’t really do anything with my hands in my current state.” He remembers you giggling before gesturing to his unopened ramune bottle. It was only 2 PM when you had asked this, but his entire day has been… challenging, to say the least. He’s spent nearly every minute helping you like this, never really realizing just how much you need your hands until you were back at his side every five minutes to ask for another favor.

And as if the world wanted to spite him, it started off with you asking him to brush your teeth. He had you seated on a stool, your mouth falling open in a lewd ‘o’ as he tilted your head and brushed them for you, but the thought of prying around inside your mouth already had him breathing hot and heavy. Not to the mention you had asked him to brush your tongue only a moment after, lolling it out with an ‘ahhh’ so he could apparently “reach it better.”

The ramune bottle was just the incident that happened to tip him right over the edge.

He’s suddenly hyper-aware of just how nice your lips look when they're pressed against the glass, and as soon you swallowed your first sip— confused and clueless eyes flickering to him when you noticed him staring— he felt himself gulp as well.

It doesn’t take him much longer to get carried away, his mind racing with all kinds of.. thoughts. He wonders if your lips would look any different if they were pressed against his dick instead of the glass. Or how’d your mouth would feel around him if he shot a load down your throat with your head hanging off the edge of the bed.

And you can’t use your hands…. so what’ll you do if he takes you against the wall? Would you just drape your arms over his shoulder and let him bully his cock into you over and over? You wouldn’t be able to clench your fists or even claw at his back. You’d just have to hang on and take it, wouldn’t you?

Choji’s words finally start to make sense to him.

It’s been nagging at him for a while now. He’d always get pulled out of his trance with a rough jab to his cheek, followed by Choji’s face emerging in front of him, grumbling something about “the way you look at her! You’re such a weirdo.”

He hadn’t really understood what he meant by that at first. He was just looking at his girl, wasn’t he? But when he’s watching the way you’re licking at the corners of your lips, whining about how some soda has started to drip down your chin, he thinks he gets what Choji meant now.

SAKURA HARUKA. cw food

“Thanks for helping me, Haru.”

You’re leaning forward with a little smile before your mouth parts open in a cheerful “ahhh,” watching the way Sakura’s shaky hand comes to feed you another spoonful of Lucky Charms. “O-of course. I said it was no problem.” He scoffs, a light dusting of red across his cheeks as soon as you’re taking a bite with a hum.

A part of him feels guilty for having these types of thoughts when he’s only feeding you some cereal. He’s been trying to get it all out of his head, trying to think of everything and anything that’ll get him soft, but it’s not working. It’s not leaving his mind. And as if his luck couldn’t get any worse, a bit of milk dribbles from the side of your mouth and you gasp loudly.

“Ah! Can you get that?”

You’re leaning in closer, and wait- was it even possible for you to be any closer? Your face is just a couple inches in front of his as you angle your head, gesturing for him to help. You’re way too close, way way too close for comfort, and oh- fuck.

There’s no napkin.

His thumb comes to swipe at your mouth before his mind even processes what he’s doing, finger pressing into your lip as you stare up at him with an unfamiliar look in your eyes. And oh… suddenly he’s keenly aware of how how you feel under his fingertip, how soft your lips feel against him, and the way you’re practically on your knees peering up at him like this..

It has his mind racing.

This sight of you— all helpless and confused, not a clue in the world about what he’s thinking about is just too much for him to handle. The thoughts he was so desperately trying to get rid of are storming back in his head with a newfound intensity the next second, and he knows it’s all over for him.

CHOJI TOMIYAMA.

“This is easy.” Choji smiles, bumping his back up into you with a huff to get a better grip on your thighs as he carries you home. He has you draped over his back, your arms wrapped around his neck as you try to hold back your sniffles. Probably twisted it, he had said, but he wasn’t gonna let something like this ruin your date night. He’s got your shoes in his bag, and.. it’s actually quite nice to have you this close to him.

It’s only about halfway home when he starts to notice it. particularly, the sound of your breathing against his ear.

Very sharp inhales and very shaky exhales.

It hurts, doesn’t it? he can tell just with one look at you. You’ve been biting your lip, tears brimming along your lashes as you try to ignore the pain. It’s a little hard for him to think of anything else with the way this feeling’s bubbling up inside him each time your breath fans right against the outer shell of his ear.

They sound so familiar, and he’s thinking hard. What was it again?

Was this how you sounded when he forces one last orgasm out of you? It’s close, he thinks, but not quite. Your chest is heaving up and down by that point. So maybe it’s when he teases you a little too much? Slowing down right before you reach your high? Yeah, that’s better. That’s when you start sniffling like this.

Choji’s suddenly much more aware of your presence- your body— he can vividly feel the way your tits are pressing up against his back, and he knows exactly how’d they look right now. Just this feeling against his back is enough to have him squeezing your thigh a little harder, jaw clenching just enough for you to not notice a thing.

Such a pretty girl can only rely on him to take you home, right? No one else?

He’s absolutely ecstatic at the fact.

HAYATO SUO.

You haven’t noticed him just yet.

Suo keeps his distance, watching the way you struggle to reach into your cabinet, groaning as you try and stretch just a couple more inches to grab that bowl. On a normal day, you could just go onto the tips of your toes and reach them, but with the way your right foot is all wrapped up, you can’t go much further than this.

He has to stifle a laugh when he hears a dramatic sigh followed a muttered curse under your breath, and he watches in amusement as you take a step back to just glare at the assortment of bowls lining your cabinet, hand coming to angrily rest on your hip as you shift your weight back on your good foot.

“So fuckin’ annoying,” he hears you grumble. “Why’s it so high in the first place?”

This would probably be a good time to help, suo thinks.

“You know, you could have asked me for help, love.” He whispers straight into your ear, hovering over your shoulder as his tassel earrings tickle the skin, and you violently jolt forward at the presence, head whipping around in a flash. “Hayato!? Y-you scared me..!”

He takes a step forward with a lighthearted chuckle, observant eyes immediately noticing the way your lips press into a nervous line when his arms fall beside you, caging you flush against the counter as you stumble backwards on your good foot. “You didn’t tell me you got hurt. What happened?”

You’re not looking at him anymore.

“Oh..” you mumble. “It’s kinda embarrassing, so I didn’t tell you.”

He’s silent, but his eyes are glued to your foot until you finally continue, voice coming out unsteady with how intense his gaze feels. “But since you’re here… that bowl,” you shyly point above you. “Can you get it? … Please?”

The silence has your heart racing. He has you pressed up close against the counter with nowhere to go, and he’s so awfully close. Staring too, and you can’t quite pinpoint the emotion in his eyes. Or eye.

It makes it even harder to tell what he’s thinking.

“Course I can help,” and you’re narrowing your eyes at the all too innocent smile that’s coming back to his face a second after, as if he didn’t just spent a good ten seconds staring at your foot with a weirdly stern look on his face.

You know Suo better than this, though. There’s usually a ‘but’ that’ll follow.

“But…” and there it is. “I’m a little curious. Let me take a look first.”

“You don’t need t—ah! Hayato?!” You squeal when he’s hooking his hand under your knee, your arms immediately slamming onto the countertop to catch yourself as he lifts your leg up. “—The hell are you doing?”

Suo kneels down with a soft smile, a stark contrast to the firm grip he’s got around your leg as he lifts it up even higher, content with the way the back of your hand has come to nervously cover your mouth.

“Just taking a look at your injury, love.” He peers up at you through half lidded eyes, watching your every reaction— and the way you’re looking at him with those shocked eyes is just endearing.

“Why? Are you having other ideas?”

UMEMIYA HAJIME. reader described as having soft skin, also asks ume once if you’re heavy (you’re not).

“Carry you? Of course I can! How do you want it?”

Umemiya’s practically bouncing up and down at the request, eager to hear that you’re finally ready to be moving around the house again. You’ve barely been up since your injury, only movement being the occasional stumble to use the restroom, and he’s been worried sick over it.

“Um...” your voice trails off a bit, eyebrows deeply furrowed in embarrassment. “You have to carry me over your shoulder. It’ll put less strain on it.”

He’s nodding right away, leaning down with an enthusiastic smile as he hoists you over his shoulder the next instant— laughter erupting from his chest when he hears you gasp, but he doesn't miss the way your ass jiggles a bit when you wiggle in his hold.

Actually...his eyes widen a bit. Are those shorts new? He’s never seen them before. They’re really.. short.

So short that he can see about a quarter of your ass like this, the skin peeking out from underneath the fabric, even more so because they’ve hiked further up when he tossed you over his shoulder.

His gaze shifts down a bit, and he starts to notice how good your thighs look when they’re flush against his chest like this. He can tell they're soft, but that’s not really a surprise to him. Your skin has always always soft— he knows this because he's used your lotions now and then. They always make him feel ten times softer himself.

Not that you need to know.

“A-am i heavy? Why aren't you moving?” The unsteadiness in your voice doesn't help his situation much. There’s a little noise of exertion, one too close to a moan that slips from your mouth when you try to push at his shoulders to crane your neck and see what's wrong. “..Haji?”

“You’re not heavy at all, silly.” He laughs, ignoring the way his pants suddenly feel tight. “Don’t worry about it.”

SUGISHITA KYOTARO.

“Glaring at it won’t make it go away, Kyo.” You giggle, hands coming to gently pat at Sugishita’s head. He’s got you propped up on your bathroom counter, one of his knees on the floor as he rests your injured ankle on top of it.

There’s a huff from your boyfriend, scowl deeper than ever as he focuses on squeezing some of your cooling gel onto his finger, making undoubtedly sure he’s only squeezing the exact amount you needed. “Stay still.”

He’s gentle when he applies the gel, scowl contorting to display a hint of sadness and worry when you flinch at the contact, but you’re relaxing into his touch as soon as the gel starts to numb your skin, sighing at the feather-light touches running up and down your ankle.

Sugishita’s gaze flickers to you as soon as he sees that your eyes have flutter shut, head tilting back to sigh at his touch. It makes him think. he’s rubbing at your skin, situated right between your legs, and you’re…breathing loudly. Very loudly. With your head tilted back.

And if you just glanced back down at him… your mouth would be parted in a little ‘o’ right? The same way you look at him just before he’s about to eat you out?

Oh.

“…Kyo?” the sound soft of your voice pulls him right out of his thoughts, and his head is jerking back to you. You are, as a matter of fact, glancing right down at him with those innocent eyes of yours. He can tell you don’t have a single clue about the thoughts whirling around in his head, even though you’ve got a 6’3 man sitting right between your legs staring at you with the hungriest look you’ve ever seen in your life.

KIRYU MITSUKI.

“Suki..?” Your voice comes out as a shaky whisper, and your boyfriend stirs a bit from where he’s seated on his bed, arms wrapped loosely around your waist as you rest your head on his shoulder. “Mm….yes, pretty?”

“‘M scared.” You tighten your embrace around him. “I don’t wanna fall asleep and move … and accidentally fuck up my back even more. It hurts.”

You exhale shakily when his hand comes to massage gentle circles along your back, skipping over the area you’ve strained earlier that week. “Aww,” he coos, tired eyes locking with yours before he’s leaning forward to pepper kisses along your shoulder. “Hmmm…”

“Let’s see….” he humming in thought, gentle vibrations of his voice soothing your nerves a bit. “Then let’s do this. Don’t make any sudden movements, ‘kay?”

You nod.

He’s shifting the next second, laying his head on his pillow with a soft grunt as he pulls you on top of him, your thighs straddling his hips as you move to hug him again. Kiryu’s careful, gentle when he adjusts a bit so you can better wrap your arms around his body and get comfortable without your back flaring up again.

“Better? Hug me just like this.” His arms wrap around your waist, cautious of the area you’ve hurt. “And you won’t be budging in your sleep. Right? We’re stuck together.”

“Now close your eyes, love. I’m right here.”

KAJI REN.

“S-sorry for making you carry me back,” you stammer, both hands holding a fistful of kaji’s shirt as he carries you bridal style. You can hear his teeth nervously biting down on the hard candy, and you can hear the sound of his music blasting in his ears even clearer.

He seems to have noticed you speaking regardless, eyebrows furrowing a bit as he tries to read your lips. It was something he’s improved on since meeting you, but he can only read your lips. He’s only tried reading yours, anyways. There would be no point in his headphones if he could understand other people’s words.

You were the sole exception.

There’s no response from him, but you’re not surprised, because Kaji never talks to you when his headphones are in. Not again, never again after Kusumi showed him a video of just how loud his voice gets when he yells over his music.

he wouldn’t want to risk scaring you with the sound.

A quick nod is all he gives you, eyes shifting to the side to mask the heat spreading up his cheeks. You’re already too damn cute for your own good, and it’s not helping with the way you’re not looking away from him.

Why are you staring so hard in the first place?

He wants to tell you to quit doing that, maybe quiet you down with a lollipop because he can still see your mouth moving in his peripheral vision… but he won’t.

Because he doesn’t have an excuse to why he’s blushing so hard. It was obvious. He has you right in his arms, completely helpless and depending on him to get you home… how else would he act in this state? Kaji wonders for a moment if you can hear the wild thumping of his heart, or maybe hear the unsteadiness in his breathing.. god, he sure hoped not.

Your eyes widen a bit when you notice his face suddenly contorting to a scowl, your words fading into a confused hum. Did you do something?

You’re immediately whipping out your phone from your front pocket, ignoring the way Kaji’s glare is still burning a hole into the street beside him, scowl worsening with each passing second.

“Kusumi…” you type out. “He looks really mad all of a sudden.”

The typing bubble under his name pops up only a second later, and you tilt your phone a bit to hide your screen in the rare chance that Kaji does finally look back at you.

your eyes scan over the text that follows.

Kusumi: He’s probably just blushing. We made him carry you for a reason. Wrap your arms around his neck and see for yourself !!

[ozzgin]

Ahhh!!! I love monster streaming concept so much! If its not a problem for you can u share some hcs about it? Anything is fine to me tbh. Im really curious how their beloved monster watchers would react for y/n trying out different streaming videos (like gameplays etc idkkkk)

LizardKing5 would probably bully you every now and then. "You already died? Noob." He'll frequently suggest horror games, so he can tease you about being scared easily. He'll joke about your choices or gaming style. At the same time, he'll send you guides, buy you in-game items, and bark at anyone else who dares to critique your skills. Only he can do that.

User0385485: man, those are some piss poor skills LizardKing5: Shut your hole before I close it with my own fist, PUNK!!11 LizardKing5: Don't listen to this idiot, just focus on the tips I sent you yesterday.

SharkMan is completely clueless. He's not into gaming, as he considers himself way too old for that, but he supports you nonetheless. He'll watch all of your streams religiously and cheer on you, even when it makes no sense whatsoever. Additionally, he'll gift you ridiculously expensive and unnecessarily advanced computer parts and accessories. He doesn't know what you need, so he just buys whatever has the highest price for good measure.

SharkMan: Fantastic work, (Y/N). LizardKing5: What are you talking about, man? This dumbass scored last place every single round!!!

HornyMantis keeps suggesting adult games, or leaves out of pocket, deranged comments during your gameplays. He couldn't care less about what you're doing, as long as he can see your face (and boobs).

HornyMantis: wow nice shot HornyMantis: u know what would make this match even better HornyMantis: if u were shirtless

DefNotAStalker keeps to himself. He just quietly observes you play and never really comments. When you leave your desk, he sometimes updates the games for you, or changes some settings, or finishes a level you were struggling with. It leaves both you and your followers confused, wondering how you managed to skip over parts or beat a challenge you kept failing a moment ago.

Y/NSimp will support you in anything you want to do. He'll pretend he's knowledgeable about gaming, but in reality he's deplorably bad at it. Secretly jealous of SharkMan and LizardKing5 for hogging all the attention, either with gifts or with useful advice.

Y/NSimp: Heh...I actually beat this level in two minutes. Y/NSimp: I could give you some tips in private if you want, (Y/N). Not to brag, but I'm a bit of a pro haha Y/NSimp: Oh, I see you already ended the stream Y/NSimp: Hello??

[Monster Streaming] | [All Monster Series]

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 2) - August!

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: this sweet one is set just before they broke it off (or rather, before the reader stomped all over his heart) in part five!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

August! (... slipped away into a moment in time)

It's a fine morning, albeit lazy, you and Ewan having done nothing but lay in bed and talk and cuddle.

Granted, you did a lot more than talk over the course of the night. And this continued in the morning, with Ewan gently coaxing you out of sleep in need.

He's been insatiable, not that you can blame him. You two are finally together, after months of dancing around each other, your friends in eager anticipation to see how the 'will-they, won't they' dynamic will culminate.

They'll be pleased to know that it all led up to the best date you've had so far, followed by a night of bodies burning for the other, marking their territory in the throes of pent-up desire.

Ewan was sure he would remain the gentleman, merely driving you back to your hotel and calling it a night.

But you had invited him upstairs for a nightcap. Maybe some tea, as the Brits do. Needless to say, the tea was quickly forgotten, along with any reservations he might have about simply having you.

The haze of it hasn't subsided. Clad in nothing but undergarments, your limbs are tangled with his under the sheets as you watch the newly released New York foods video he did with Tom a while back.

"Baby?" you say, running your fingers through his hair as he has his head propped on your thighs. The screen plays on, showing the lads thoroughly enjoying some New York City hotdogs.

"Hmm?" he responds, his voice hinting at how soothed he feels from your touch.

"You're such a baby."

"What?" He twists his neck to shoot you a look of betrayal. Adorable.

"I bet those chips weren't even that spicy," you say, rolling your eyes. "I would have devoured those jalapeño chips."

"They were spicy!" He leans against his forearm, which he quickly positioned on your thigh without thinking, causing your muscle to spasm from the sudden weight.

"Ahhh, Ewan!" you wriggle your legs. "Get off, get off..."

"Shit!" He bolts upright, immediately kneading the flesh with his palm. "Sorry, baby. Here, where does it hurt?"

You sigh audibly. "Oh, you." You narrow your eyes at him playfully, trying to look all tough, but apparently he takes it as a cue to press his lips to yours.

It's warm, a bit sloppy, your breaths stale from wine drank over the course of the night. And you don't mind at all.

He croons in your ear, "How do I make it up to you?"

"It's fine, I was only kind of messing - "

"Come now, darling, anything."

He gazes at you, awaiting an answer. In the background, you hear his voice saying, The Fuegos... I didn't like them, as the video comes to a close.

I saw your eyeballs sort of pop out your head a little bit, Tom says in response.

This is going to be fun, you think, smiling evilly to yourself.

Rising to your knees on the bed, you loudly declare, "Today, my love, you will conquer your fears and eat my favourite spicy food."

"Nooo!" He shakes his head right away, already plotting how to get out of this predicament. "Baby, please make me do anything else. I can't handle my spice!"

"My mind is made up."

"What if I do that thing that made you scream last night? When I buried my tongue insi - '

"Ewan!" Your face reddens, but you carry on. His face will soon have the same reaction, but for different, more savoury reasons. "I mean, I would like that but - "

"Alright, let's go baby, spread your knees - " he nods, desperate to placate you and your challenge, but also eager to get down to business.

You shuffle away when he tries to pry your legs open. " - I said I made up my mind! We're eating spicy food. We gotta eat anyway, I'm starving."

He groans, collapsing back on the bed. He runs his hand tiredly over his face, mulling it over. As if he actually has a choice. He wants to do this for you, seeing as how excited you're getting.

"Get up, ol' sport," you crawl on top of him, perching above his stomach. "We're gonna go get the goods."

"Hmm," he sighs contentedly, one look at you more than enough to quell his worries. For now.

"Okay, darling," he relents, then his eyes flash in mischief. "But before we get out of bed... how about I do that thing anyway?"

There is not a single chance in the seven hells that you could ever say no to that.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

An interesting spread is laid out on the round dining table in your hotel suite.

Your stomach growls in anticipation, while Ewan is stiff as a board as he sits beside you.

"I'm hungry, aren't you?" you nudge him, but he only moans, throwing his head back in his chair.

"What if I'd already eaten? I can skip this?" he tries.

"And what the hell did you eat?"

He smirks, and even though his answer won't save him from what follows, it renders him gleeful all the same. "You," is his reply.

That prompts an eye roll, but you shake your head at him fondly. "What should we start with, baby?"

"Water."

"Come on."

"How about the strawberry milk?"

"Okay, then I'll pick." You clasp your hands, surveying the options. "Let's start with something easy." You settle for the bowl of Flamin Hot Cheetos and place it right in front of him.

You help yourself to a few pieces, before noticing that he hasn't moved a muscle, so you take one and bring it to his lips. "Open up, handsome."

"Mmmm," he tilts his head away on instinct, but he gives in after a second. He makes a face as the snack crunches in his mouth. "Not... bad, I suppose.... Urghhh - " he coughs a little, making you snicker at him between bites.

"That's not spicy at all," you say. "At least, it's nothing compared to what we'll have next."

The chicken wings are an unnatural bright red colour, covered in hot sauce and dotted with flecks of chili. You lean down and take a whiff, your nose scrunching as the strong hint of spice hits your senses.

Your placating smile does nothing to ease Ewan, who only looks like he is regretting his life choices on the spot.

"O-kay, dragonblood. Time to breathe fire," you remark in an attempt to inspire some confidence in him. Didn't he take pride in playing a Targaryen dragonrider? Surely some part of him would want to overcome the big, bad opponent that is known in our world as spicy wings.

"Breathe fire?" he exclaims. "That does not make me feel any better!"

"Do it for Vhagar, my love. Do it for Vhagar."

"I'm doing this for you," he corrects, before gingerly taking the smallest bite of a wing. He waits for the impact, confused when nothing unpleasant occurs.

So he bravely takes another, heartier bite.

Big mistake.

His hand gravitates to the glass of water, and he chugs it down like a lifeline. His once pale face becomes the same hue as the fiery culprit.

"Fffuck, ba...by," he hiccups. "I didn't like that at all."

You have a bite, wincing just a little when it hits your throat. It wasn't too bad, so you tell him to calm down.

He complains anyway, "I think I just saw my life flash right before my eyes."

You chortle at that, which unfortunately makes some of the spice travel up your nose. "Oh god!" You instantly take a huge gulp of milk. "Don't make me laugh!" you say, when the heat dies down.

"See?" he cries out in vindication. "Why must we torture ourselves, darling?"

"The food's tasty," you counter.

"Yeah, but is it worth the price?"

You grip his shoulder, dramatically saying, "We have to keep going, soldier."

"No."

"Yes."

"You won't break up with me if I refuse, will you?"

You pause, making it seem like you are seriously deliberating it. "Maybe."

"What?!" His expression takes on a more real sense of alarm.

"I'm kidding," you giggle, nudging his leg with yours. He leans his head against your shoulder, responding with, "You're mean."

"And you're dating me. What does that say about you?"

He lets out a weary laugh, "That I'm just really in love, I guess."

That almost makes you give up on the challenge entirely. You could just let him eat the pepperoni pizza you have saved as the actual meal. But it wouldn't hurt too much to tackle the grand finale. The final boss. Maybe it will even get his taste buds to crack and cross over to the dark side.

"Baby?" Here goes everything.

"Hmm?"

"It's time for the spicy ramen."

He sighs a true sigh of defeat and acceptance. "If I survive this, you have to swear you're never letting me go."

"That's your bargain? Easy, baby."

His blue eyes bore into yours. His cheeks are still red and he's still sniffling from the spice, but his sentiment holds weight. He shrugs, before his arm reaches out for the bowl of ramen, making it known that he has already accepted his fate.

You slide the glass of milk closer to him.

"Try not to get it on your lips as much as possible," you advise him, growing worried as the ramen pack did warn that it was '2x Spicy'.

You cringe inwardly as a forkful of noodles enters his mouth. He drops his arm, chewing slowly, and finally the food gratefully slides down his throat.

"Mmm," he clears his throat, trying his hardest to remain calm. His forced, blank expression is even more alarming than the alternative.

"Ewan?" He turns his head toward you, slowly. And you see the full extent of the damage. His eyes well with tears, and his breathing is shallow from an even more congested nose.

"I'm okay," he wheezes, trying to maintain a show of boldness for your sake. "I can do this."

"You don't look okay." You shake your head at him, as his face takes on an even deeper shade of red.

A pained grunt escapes him. "Maybe a kiss will make it better."

A cursory glace at the ramen sauce staining his lips compels you to protest without a second thought. "How about no? You've got it all over your lips."

"Darling, who cares? You're going to eat them too!" he says, scandalised.

"But I've got a technique. I don't let it touch my lips so it doesn't burn!" You inch away as he leans in.

"So you won't kiss me?" He uses his baby blues against you, eyes bright and shimmering as he pouts in disappointment.

"You don't need a kiss." He tries to grab you, making you stand from your chair to get away. With your palm outstretched, you implore him, "Baby, just drink your milk."

"Then I get a kiss?"

"Fine. Then you get a kiss."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Tom calls you a few days later, his tone animated from the moment you pick up. "Would you look at that! I didn't think I would get a hold of you lovers. Thought you'd be busy doing somethin' else, if y'know what I mean."

"It's noon here, Tom," you reply matter-of-factly, stretching your legs out on the bed.

"So? I reckon Captain Big Balls over there has got it in him."

"Wow," you let out an amused exhale. Tom always did have a way about him, being a Manc and all. "Well, he's in the shower right now if you wanted to speak to him."

"I'm surprised you're not in there with him, love! You guys are all over the news, bloody hell. Even out here, everyone's buzzin' about the hot new couple from House of the Dragon. And no, it's not Matt and Fabien."

You smirk at his last remark, "Are you sure it's not Matt and Fabs?"

"Positive," he says. "But we never know what could happen. Anyway, how in the hell did you convince him?"

You rack your brain for what exactly he could be pertaining to. "Convince him to do what?"

"To create a bloody Instagram profile, that's what!"

Your mouth falls open, and you quickly put him on speaker so you can scroll to the aforementioned app. Sure enough, it doesn't take long for you to sift through your new follower notifications before you find him.

His username is on brand - straightforward and no-frills - just ewanmitchell . Already verified with a hundred thousand followers and counting. In his following list, however, there is only one - your profile.

If the papparazzi pictures and tabloid stories and fan encounters hadn't convinced everyone yet, likely this will.

Ewan, notorious not only for his charisma and pure talent, but also for being steadfast in staying off social media, has sent the entirety of Ewan Nation into a tailspin with his profile.

Icing on the cake - he only follows you.

"You see, this is what convinces the public that you two are not PR," Tom says. "Because Ewan would never, ever get on the socials for just anyone."

"I didn't even know he made this. I haven't been online in quite a bit."

"Been busy, huh?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Doin' a lot of stuff out there?"

"I guess."

"Like Ewan?"

"Tom, I'm going to lynch you when I see you."

He only laughs, having gotten his desired outcome from prodding at you.

The bathroom door slides open, and Ewan steps out with nothing but a towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist.

"Who's that?" he mouths at you.

"Tom," you answer loudly, prompting Tom to greet Ewan from the speakerphone.

"Aemond the Fierce!" he bellows, the long-distance call doing nothing to stifle his personality. "I always knew you had it in ya. Ever since you laid eyes on her during the table read, I knew it was only a matter of time."

Well, isn't that a revelation. You had thought it was just you harbouring a crush in the beginning. "The table read, really? I just remember being so nervous," you say.

"I thought you were attractive," Ewan admits, scratching the back of his neck. "And you were reading your lines with such passion that I... "

Tom interrupts, "He ran over to me and told me to show him your social media."

"Not just that, I - "

"He wanted to see whether you had any pictures with a boyfriend or something."

"Alright, alright." Ewan snatches the phone from your hand, as if that will keep Tom from exposing him even more. "How are you, mate?"

"I'm good, lad, and yourself?"

Ewan glances at you, seeing that you've gone back to reading a script, your brow furrowed in concentration.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"I'm great. I'm happy."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

"Over here! Over here!"

"How's your evening going, you guys? How are you enjoying LA?"

The papparazzi needlessly try to make small talk and they flash their cameras in your face. You and Ewan barely have time to grimace at each other once you get inside his car. The restaurant where he took you to dinner hadn't been crawling with paps when you arrived. Someone must have tipped them at some point.

Ewan instinctively reaches for your hand when you've driven some distance away from the restaurant, a breath of relief exiting his lungs.

"That's Hollywood for you, baby," he says amusedly, putting on his best standard American accent.

The car speeds through the streets of LA. Heading to Mount Hollywood, you have the famous Griffith Observatory set as your destination.

You have always wanted to go, and it only took one mention to Ewan before he planned it for your next date.

It doesn't take long before the observatory's iconic structure comes into view. Its white domes seemingly gleam under the night sky, a sentinel watching over the city of Los Angeles.

Stepping out of the car, you take in the scene in awe. The resulting look on your face lets Ewan know he made the right choice in taking you here. He'd take you here everyday if it meant seeing you in a spell of childlike wonder.

The observatory itself is just a bonus.

The outer balcony stretches like a vertice into the vastness of the city, a sea of lights glistening down below. It seemed to sprawl on endlessly, a labyrinth of hopes and pains and dreams.

You stand there, drawn to the view like a moth to a flame. The evening breeze dances through your hair, and your face is aglow from the illuminated city.

Smiling widely, you turn and find Ewan lingering just behind, watching you.

"Come and look at this, my love," you wave him over.

He wants to capture the moment, so he does. He subtly points his camera in your direction. Your profile is partially visible, with your face turned out into the horizon. Your silhouette stands before a mosaic of the shining city.

But it's you that has his attention. You that pulls all of his focus into the frame.

He never thought he would have much use for a public social media profile like the one he created on Instagram, but hours later, as you're sound asleep beside him, he finds purpose for such a thing.

He uploads the first ever photo on his profile - the one he secretly took of you at the observatory.

Too conscious to think of a caption, he doesn't type in any, content to let the photo speak for itself.

Putting his phone away, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead and falls into blissful slumber.

Ewan hadn't been aware of the phrase breaking the internet, and he's in for quite the rude awakening.

Even so, he doesn't let it faze him.

You're in shock when you discover the amount of comments under the photo, well past the twelve thousand mark when you wake up. Positive, negative, and everything in between.

Almost unheard of for an Instagram debut.

His reaction?

"At least everyone knows that you're mine now. What's wrong with that?"

You can vote here on the reader's hotd character name!

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @hotdismylife @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @dracaryxzs @aemondwhoresworld @aisselasstuff @onlyrealjoy (continued in comments)

The sad, angsty bits will be saved for the next proper chapter! What happens to Ewan's Instagram then? What happens to him?? 🥲💔

I was going to include the double date idea, but alas, my ideas ran dry.

I've got nothing but love for all of you that have followed this story to this point! If you've got scene requests, just let me know!

[hug-your-face]

Insight today while washing the lettuce and thinking of my friend who doesn't want to vote.

They are an otherwise intelligent, responsible, generous person, who appears to be socially conscious. They have worked hard and long for their position in their profession. They express concern for the planet. They get twitchy if you use too many paper towels.

But they don’t want to vote for Biden for reasons, and quote "doesn't like the whole system where the parties take turns swinging things back and forth" unquote.

I have been dumbstruck at their attitude for about two months now. I've been thrashing back and forth trying to reconcile this person I love with their attitude:

If you care abt the planet enough to conserve paper towels, don’t you care enough to stop a Repub administration from raping the land?

If you don’t like how things can swing back and forth, don't you want an administration that's going to work to shore up, rather than dismantle, more lasting democratic systems of governance?

If you understand the value of the long game, why are you only satisfied with instant results from a single election rather than viewing that election as a single move in an ongoing process?

The insight came to me as I used an extra set of paper towels to dry my lettuce:

These people are not motivated by outcomes. They are motivated by how their choices make them FEEL.

Not how the outcomes of their choices will make them feel. But how the action associated with their choices makes them feel.

In terms of outcomes for the environment, saving paper towels doesn't do shit compared to pushing for restrictions on oil companies. But using half a paper towel is an instant dopamine hit: "Ahhh, I am caring for Mother Earth. I care. I am a good person. Ahh yes that's the stuff."

This model fits for voting too. We know that The Only Votes That Count Are Those Cast. We know that Dems Go Where The Votes Are Not Where The Votes Aren't. We know that voting in every election, every time, in numbers, is a very low-effort way to contribute to moving the Overton window farther left.

But in the moment, for people who are motivated by how their action associated with their choice makes them feel... the absolute best move for their dopamine supply is to abstain: "I am NOT supporting an old fart; I am NOT supporting genocide; I am Challenging The System; I am a good person. Ahh yes, that's the stuff."

At the time, when I challenged my friend on their position, they held up their hands and said "look, I'm not saying I have any answers, I'm just saying I don’t like how the system works."

They didn't like how participating in the system made them FEEL in the moment.

For those of us who think this is madness, hey, we aren't off the hook entirely. We are basing our choices and actions off of outcomes, true. But there's probably a feeling/dopamine component in there too. "I am holding my nose and voting Blue; I am doing my part to actually affect the future even if I hate some things abt my choice; I am a good person. Ahh yes, that's the stuff."

So maybe the difference isn't in the motivation (my feelings and self-image) but in what motivates us (my action vs the outcome of my action).

I don't have an answer to the question at this time and this post is already long enough. But I'll think on it. And I invite you to do so as well:

For these people (who seem to be a sizable part of the population), how to outweigh the choice where their action preserves their self-image, doesn't cost them dopamine for having to take a "bad" action, and maybe even gives them a happy boost for "not being part of a flawed system?"

For these people, how to help them connect more to the outcome?

Off the cuff, I can't think of any means other than cognitive-behavioral therapy. :/

EDIT: Apparently there's a term for this and it's called Emotivism -- ethics isn't abt effects but abt feelings.

[gumiluver]

NO PREP? NAUGHTY GIRL. ~ JJK NSFW SCENARIOS

synopsis: you let him hit it without foreplay ;)

(pls prep!! foreplay is super important!!)

cover pic credit: Aloneexe19 on pinterest

lovers <3: afab!reader, gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro/zen’in toji, ryomen sukuna

PART TWO <3 | EAT ME! ~ GOJO

byr/important: the content written in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18, minors please do not interact

cw: nsfw, pwp, dacyphilia (satoru, suguru), manhandling (all characters), dark content(-ish) (all characters), pussy slapping (sukuna ofc), light bondage (sukuna)

Satoru 🖤

Loves a good challenge, especially if it deals with him fucking your pretty pussy into oblivion.

Satoru doesn’t really think you’d be able to take him all fully tho. You’re his perfect pillow princess and he’s your knight in shining armor. He’d do anything to please you, and that usually meant lots of foreplay. He loved to see you absolutely drenched, he makes it a personal goal of his to make you soak the bed each time y’all fuck.

So when you come up to him and tell him you wanna spice things up, add a little fun to the mix, he’s a bit taken back. No foreplay?? Is this a punishment??

Your sex lives were never boring, of course, but who doesn’t love a little sexual exploration?

He’s quick to move things into the bedroom, stripping you down to nothing and laying you on your side. He’s got his back to your chest, spooning you gently as he grips your inner thigh and hoists it over his hip—granting him special access to your puffy pussy.

The feel of his washboard abs against your back and his erect cock poking your entrance made you all hot and bothered. Your legs being spread and pinned with his own only furthered that vulnerability, his manhandling making your pussy throb, “let me do it ‘toru,” you whisper shyly, reaching your hand down to line his pretty tip up to your pussy. He smirks, backing his hand away and caressing the curve of your hip. He cups your breast and places gentle kisses across your neck, biting here and there along the way.

You’re struggling to push him inside, his tip too big for your pert hole. You whine a bit, trying to swivel your hips around in hopes that his tip will slip in. He chuckles at your measly attempts, “want some help with that pretty girl?”

Before you can even answer, the hand that was grasping your tits shoots down to grip the base of his cock. Your little hand suddenly losing the grip you had on him as he starts to press his tip into your pretty pussy. You let out a high-pitched moan, already feeling so much resistance with just his tip. Tears welling a bit in your eyes as you look up to Satoru, whose piercing blue eyes are carefully watching your reactions.

But this time, Satoru feels something different—something foreign to him. It makes his tip pulsate ridiculously and his balls tighten to the point of pain, ‘it can’t be…’ he thinks, giving an experimental thrust to push an inch inside you again. You let out another loud moan as a couple tears start to slide down your cheek, eyes closed tightly and brows furrowed.

“H-holy fuck, ahhh,” he groans out. The pornographic sounds erupting from your boyfriend makes your pussy unconsciously clench unbelievably tight, so much so that it might push out the 1/4th of his cock that’s just barely being pushed into you. You’ve never heard him so loud, so animalistic; it makes your head spin with lust and want.

You’re starting to squirm around him, breathing heavily as he continues to sheath his cock inside of you inch by agonizing inch. The pain a bit more pronounced than the pleasure, but you knew that once the pleasure hit, oh…it would hit. He’s peppering kisses along your jaw and licks away the tears that happen to slip past your eyes, he can’t help but feel his dick twitch each time your innocent doe-like eyes look at him, almost begging for him to hurry up and bottom out.

“Such a good fuckin girl,” he grunts out, starting to feel himself lose control over seeing you struggle and cry over taking his dick—makes him feel like a school boy busting a nut for the first time. The tightness of your princess cunt makes his heart skip a beat, subconsciously bucking his hips further and completely bottoming out inside you.

You gasp suddenly, gripping the bedsheets and letting out a languid moan that radiates throughout the house. He sees you try to worm your other hand down to your pussy, wanting to add a bit more pleasure into the mix by rubbing your neglected clit. He chuckles, grabbing your wrist and placing it back to your side. He laces his hand with your own to prevent you from trying any stunts like that again, not wanting to ruin all the fun that the two of you were having, “ah ah ah princess, remember what you said? no foreplay, so don’t even think about touching my pussy,”

Suguru 🖤

Was curious to see if his pretty baby could actually take him all in without his usual foreplay.

Suguru loved to spend hours in between your thighs, playing with your cute cunt — even when you were overstimulated and begging for him to let you have a break. He just couldn’t help himself to your slutty hole—so slick, so pretty.

He was an inquisitive man by nature, always questioning the outcome of his actions and taking leaps of faith to better understand the inner workings of people—especially you. He loves studying your body, your reactions, what you like and what you love, what makes you go crazy and what makes you lose your sanity.

So when you bring up an idea, a “challenge for yourself,” so you say—he’s more than happy to take up your offer. What kind of loving boyfriend would deny his baby what she wanted?

“Remember, tap my leg three times if it gets too much,” Suguru says, gripping onto your thighs. You nod, smiling at him as a way to reassure his mind, “I trust you sugu, s’okay, I wan’ it,”

That was all it took for Suguru to flip like a switch. Sure he treats you like a princess, but he has to be mindful over his constant need to manhandle you. He’s suddenly got you folded up into a mating press, your knees pushed up to your head while he leans dangerously close to your lips, his eyes piercing into yours. “Can’t wait to mark you up with my lips baby,” he says, a hum rumbling from his chest as he closes the gap to give you a brief kiss.

He comes back up to take a breath, and you can’t help but notice the darkness in his eyes—a cloudiness that makes you question if you’re his lover or his prey. A cheshire cat-like smile blesses his sharp face, his gaze begins to travel down towards your empty little hole, ‘so sad,’ he thinks, quick to position himself to line his tip up with your cunny and fill you up to the brim. You whimper at his abrasiveness, your pussy clenching with anticipation.

He starts to push his tip into you, slowly, looking up every so often to gaze upon your angelic face. Those innocent little eyes now closed and scrunched together, tears threatening to spill out as you cover your mouth with your hand to hold in your pathetic whimpers and whines.

Suguru clicks his tongue in disapproval, pinning your wrists above your head and pushing himself in your tight cunt a bit deeper—a simple warning. You knew better to hide those pretty moans from him, but those same moans teetered across the border between moans and screams of pleasure.

“Look at you, all stretched out nice and pretty for me,” he says, a venom-like lustfulness lacing his tone. You couldn’t help the quiver that overwhelmed your pussy from his nasty words, making his cock slip in a bit easier despite the lack of prep. He lets out a long, low groan as he continues to ease in, careful to not push your limits. While he was a freak in the sheets, that didn’t excuse him from employing the basic ground rules of consent.

And if Suguru knew one thing for sure, it was everything and anything dealing with you.

Your whimpers are bouncing off the walls, no longer able to control the projection of your voice. Your body starting to become overwhelmed by the sheer stretch his cock brings to your little pussy. The depth his dick is reaching inside you felt as if he was trying to reach for your soul. A soul for him to consume, for him to claim. You couldn’t control your voice, and now you couldn’t control your body.

And Suguru liked that. In fact, he loved seeing you go absolutely fucking dumb when he bottoms out in you, just so that he can bring you back into reality. The power he holds over your body and the amount of trust you place in him makes his head spin and his heart burn with love. He can’t help but soothe your quivering body to help ground you back to him, “your thighs are shakin’ so much baby, need me to slow down for ya?”

Kento 🖤

Was shocked to hear that you wanted to attempt a feat as big as that, but when he heard your explanation he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with love and his dick ache with anticipation.

Your innocent claims of wanting to alleviate his tension by offering your own body for him to use in any way he wanted was dangerous. His absolute strength has been known to make powerful curses and sorcerers shutter with a simple glance of his, and he always made sure to separate that strength away from you.

That’s not to say he was never tempted to mark up that beautiful body of yours. See the shape of his fingers imprint themselves on your hips. Hearing your pleading cries and whimpers for him to ease up or slow down. Oh yes…a part of him has always yearned to see you lose your sanity when he has his way with you.

“Wanna help you relieve your stress, daddy,” you whispered in his ear, kissing his neck slowly and nibbling at that one spot underneath his jawline, “wan’ you to take your frustration out on me,” you mumbled, voice laced with so much need that it made his knees weak. He groaned, a deep rumble emitting from his chest that made you squeeze your thighs together.

He can feel his rationality slip, his muscles unnaturally flexing as he tries to calm himself down before he looses his composure and does something he will regret. He looks down at you, and you peer up at him. “Fuck,” he thinks, realizing he probably shouldn’t have looked to you for reassurance when you looked so damn delicious and needy. He can’t help himself when he lunges for you and and pins you to the wall. A hand wrapping around your head to grip the base of your hair, making your neck jolt upwards and force you to meet his eyes. His ease with making you so pliable demonstrated his ungodly strength and turned you into nothing but a shaky mess.

“This is a one time thing, understood?” He grunts out, his sanity slipping from him. He always swore to never bring work home, to never use work-stress as as an excuse for misbehavior. But god damn did your offer sound tempting. You sounded tempting. To make matters worse, you mutter out three words that finally make him snap:

“Don’t be gentle,”

He groans and strips you of your clothes like a starved man. The veins in his arms pulsating, his breath turning into pants, his cock absolutely throbbing—pulsating. It felt like his pants were about to rip from how hard his fucking cock felt.

He moves his hand towards your cute pussy and starts to play with your clit, kissing you feverishly and sucking your tongue into his mouth as he tries to prep you. Your quick to react, pushing his hands away and moaning into the kiss, “just put it in k-kento, wanna feel aah—all of you,” you say during the kiss, moaning into his mouth sweetly. You can’t help but want for him to stretch that thick cock of his inside your lil cunny.

He’s quick to turn you around, face and chest now pressed against the wall while your ass juts out for him to admire. He’s biting his lip, groping your ass and pressing his cock against your folds.

But he doesn’t press his tip in yet. Oh no, he wants to watch you push yourself back into his cock. After all, you insisted on foregoing his usual time spent in between your legs, licking and suckling onto your pretty little cunt.

Quickly taking the hint, you start to back your pussy up onto his cock. The burning stretch from taking his tip already making you gasp and shake. It felt like he was splitting you open, ‘maybe I should’ve let him prep me after all’ you think, gaslighting yourself into fearing the worst. He gives a soft chuckle at your poor attempt to take him in and couldn’t help but tease you a bit, “you can fit more than that now can’t you, darling?”

Toji 🖤

Thinks it’s funny that you want to take all of him in without any prep. You? His pretty pillow princess?

No matter how many times he fucks you, he still needs to spend hours between your thighs to ensure that you are absolutely soaked with your arousal.

Despite his efforts, you always manage to struggle taking his cock in one fell swoop. Whining and whimpering about how “it’s too big” or “you’re too deep,” and Toji would be lying if he said it didn’t stroke his ego.

He almost says no — almost, until you started mouthing off to him. He just had to put his brat back in place, maybe teach you a lesson or two.

“So desperate for it aren’t ya? Well, if ya want it so bad then ya better start takin’ it.” You shifted on his lap, hovering above his cock to line yourself up with his tip. Toji spreads his body out, completely overtaking the couch the two of you were currently on. He rests his head on his hand, an act to reinforce his big ego by having absolutely no intent on assisting you on your journey to wreck your pussy. After all, Toji was never one to reward bratty behavior.

“Come on now, take all of my cock baby. What happened to that attitude? Huh? Already too fucked out from tryna’ take my dick, huh baby? Yeaaaah, that’s right baby, go on n’ sink down on my cock,” he taunted, his eyes wild with amusement and lust as his hands gripped your ass and waist firmly. It felt like you were choking—the stretch so overwhelming that it literally took your breath away.

He noticed your shallow breathing and swiftly moves a hand from your waist to grip your chin — snapping your attention back to him and how good he was making you feel.

“Breathe,” he commands, and you’re suddenly grounded back to reality as your lungs fill with much needed air. Your walls relax a bit more, giving Toji the opportunity to bottom out inside you fully by pushing your hips down.

You belt out a moan Toji has never heard the likes of. He feels his balls tighten as he watches this absolute goddess above him become completely destroyed by his massive cock. He puffs his chest out and let’s out a loud groan, followed by a low growl,” good girl…now get to work,”

Sukuna 🖤

Has always like the idea of ravishing your pussy with one thrust of his cock, and thought that it would be the perfect punishment to give out to you the next time you forget your place.

And god damn it did he want to put you in your place right fucking now. The way your smirking up at him, raising your brow and folding your arms across your chest. That big ass ego of yours starting to make you feel on top of the world, seeing as you’ve made the king of curses become a pussy whipped simp who would literally set the world on fire for you.

You knew he would never do anything to actually hurt you, but that didn’t mean he abstained from all of his sadistic ways; and you, being a masochist, loved to set him off.

You shudder with anticipation, a devilish smile appearing on Sukuna’s face as he hovers over your trembling form. He has your wrists tied above your head as his massive thighs spread your own thick ones apart. A light sheen of sweat covers your skin that creates an aura around you—resembling a light of protection that coaxes Sukuna to corrupt it, to do his worst. His cock already hard from gazing upon your naked form, so docile and helpless.

God it makes his cock fucking ache.

“You did this to me, now you’re gonna fix it,” he grunts out, stroking his thick cock in front of you to add emphasis to the problem that you caused. You whimpered, more than ready to take whatever cruel punishment he has intended for you.

Your plush pussy clenched aimlessly, begging to be stuffed by your king. You’re squirming around helplessly as you watch him pump his cock, drool starting to pool in your mouth, “pleaseeee ‘kuna, hurry uuuup,” you whine, shifting your hips upwards as if to beckon his cock to you. Your tantalizing hips and bratty attitude continuing to stir the fire within Sukuna.

He scowls at you menacingly, smacking your thigh, covertly showing his disapproval of your behavior, “you’ll take what I give you, when I give it to you, ” giving your pussy a light spank before he brushes his tip against your folds. A single swipe only, just to rile you up a bit more.

You’re huffing and squirming even more now, starting to feel antsy over the lack of stimulation Sukuna was giving you. He usually gives you so much pleasure all in one go that it becomes too much, so this lack of touch and stimulation makes your heart skip a beat—not from excitement either, but out of fear.

As you’re getting lost in your thoughts, you’re quick to miss Sukuna line himself up towards your tiny pussy, slamming himself into you with one. sharp. thrust.

“Thaaaaat’s it slut, take this dick, fuuuuuck,” he groans loudly, reveling in the way your tight lil cunny squeezes his fat cock and how your usual angelic voice has morphed into a whorish scream. He’s pushed himself so far into you that you feel yourself inadvertently creaming around him. The sudden onslaught of his cock piercing into your cunt shocked the pleasure system of your brain and sent you overboard, coaxing you quickly to the brink of an orgasm.

But this time, Sukuna meant business. He’s let you get away with this attitude for far too long; to reward you would just reinforce that bad behavior. As quick as he is to thrust himself fully into you, he’s just as quick to pull his cock out; and before you can even complain about it, Sukuna’s hand expertly moves to cover your mouth. He’s glaring at you, an ominous smirk plastered on his face as he scolds you, “you better not cum until I tell you to, I don’t care how good it feels you better hold that shit in, understand?”

A/N: Thanks for reading! This is my first time posting for the jjk fandom—what did y’all think? Do I hear a part twoooo? 🤔😳

Likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

[adabird]

Hii !! I just read your preferences and thought they were really cuteee ~★

If you’re taking requests, would you be able to write a part two of the preferences with the characters: aizawa, tamaki, shoto, midoriya, bakugo, and yo shindo? That is if you write for them, of course. Don’t be afraid to pick and choose which characters who you want to and do not want to write ❕ (I’m so sorry if that was a lot of characters… ☹️)

anyways, i’m greatly delighted by your writing style and very excited to watch your blog grow ❕

— 🤍

(P.S: your taste in characters is AMAZING! and you write them so well?! for sure one of the best i’ve ever seen for all of the character from your preferences)

MHA BOYS PT.2

HEADCANNONS + PREFRENCES

All characters AGED UP! readers BEWARE, there are some NSFW and PROGRESSIVE MOMENTS!

(OMG! It took me like ten minutes to find out to respond, I legit didn’t see the “reply”button. Anyways!)

I was also thinking about making a preferences for the teachers? Like, Aizawa, PresMic, Hawks, All might, Mirko, Midnight? I know Hawks and Mirko aren’t teachers, but I really want an excuse to write them.. Anyways, thank you for the recommendation!)

ALSO! sorry for taking so long to respond I didn’t know this is where the requests went!!

X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X

Bakugou Katsuki-

HEIGHT

Katsuki would really be into the”Height Differences”. Whether you’re taller than him or shorter than him. After he has matured and been out in the hero field for the past 6 years,he’s grown physically and mentally. He’s grown to be more mature mentally, by over coming challenges on the field, and off the field. So when your relationship had started, he had grown less rude, and a tad bit more quieter. His build has also changed, he had gotten bigger, taller, and grown more mussel mass on his body. So, again,when he met you he was about 6’0 and lean. If you’re taller then him, he has the hots for how he gets to grab the base of your neck to pull you into a kiss, and don’t get him started when you lean down to take a picture next to him. MMM. And if you’re shorter, then him he loves when HE gets to lean down and kiss you, and don’t even get him started when you stand on your tip-toes, to grab his cheeks to peck him.

Midoriya Izuku-

LIPS

AHHH OKAY. OKAY. Izuku is really into your lips, just like TSU, he’ll sit down and stare at your lips while you go chatting about whatever subject, or school project you’re doing at that time. He really enjoys inviting you over for study sessions, especially for English class. He loves big lips, small lips, cupid lips, round lips, thin lips, ANY. KIND.He loves when the class is doing a book project, so he can sit and watch you with his puppy dog eyes. He also loves whenever you sit next to him, and kiss his neck while he reads the following passage to you. You drive him crazyyyy..

Tamaki Amajiki-

EYES

MMM! Tamaki is my boy for real. Tamaki gets really jittery because of his anxiety. But when it comes to you, his anxiety always seems to loosen,ESPECIALLY when you two are alone. Tamaki is known for standing in corners, and avoiding eye-contact. However, when he met you, your eyes kept him captivated. Any kind of eyes keeps him captivated.. Small, Big, Round, Almond, Siren, Hooded. It’s all about your eye color. He loves the way they show your emotions, and loves how they shine in the sun.. He loves when you force him into eye contact whenever you talk to him. He gets really turned on by how dominant you can be..

Aizawa Shota-

STRETCH MARKS

GOD. Shota really loves your stretch marks. It all started when you wore a one piece to the private pool. At first you were scared, a little nervous even when it came to taking off your tee. However once you talked it out to Shota, you took it off feeling a bit more confident after the pep-talk you had just endured. He couldn’t stop staring at your stretch marks, at first you wanted to put on your tee until Shota started to speak up. He grabbed your thighs running his hands over your marks. He ended up telling you how turned on he was,and he thought that your stretch marks are extremely sexy. After that day,practically every day after that ended up with Shota next to you caressing and kissing all of your stretch marks telling you how hot you are.

Todoroki Shoto-

VOICE

Shoto bro. Shoto… Shoto really enjoys late night calls with you. He really likes calling you to listen to your voice as it soothes him to sleep. And don’t get me started if you feel insecure, because this man will make sure you love your voice and who you are as a person. AND. especially if someone calls you annoying, that person would come running back to you telling you they were only ‘Messing around’ and hit you with the ‘I didn’t mean to make you upset’, I definitely think Shoto is really protective over you, and makes sure you feel loved.

Yo Shindo-

HANDS

Shindo loves. your. hands. He loves your hands whether they’re big or small. He loves how they wrap around in his hands when he invites you to grab your hand. And he loves how they grip his biceps, and wrap around his back whenever he wraps you up in a hug. He really loves as they cup his face whenever the two of you have your make-out sessions. He really does admire you for your personality, he really enjoys how you involve him into your friend groups. And even his friends LOVE you once you finally meet them..

[thewulf]

Breaking Point || Simon "Ghost" Riley

Summary: Request -I've got this itch for some hurt/comfort with Simon Ghost Riley and the reader from TF 141. Reader's this badass sniper, always on top of her game. But one day she wakes up feeling under the weather. She decides to push through training, but things take a turn when she starts feeling faint during drills after Price gives her shit for not training hard... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh this was challenging but so much fun to right. Please let me know your thoughts below :) Got a little carried away with this one!

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 7.7k +

TW: Heat Stroke, Flu, Illness, general COD warnings.

Four years ago, you were a part of a special training assignment with the American Navy, deployed in a remote and sweltering military base off the coast of Africa. It was here in the middle of the grueling drills and relentless heat that you caught the eye of Captain John Price. Your prowess with a rifle was unmistakable. Every target set before you fell without fail. But what truly set you apart was your demeanor: you kept your head down, focused intensely on the task at hand, never boasting about your undeniable skills.

Captain Price who was always on the lookout for exceptional talent to add to Task Force 141, saw in you a rare combination of humility and sharpshooting expertise. Recognizing your potential he pulled some strings, navigated through the complexities of the American Military bureaucracy, and somehow successfully recruited you into the prestigious ranks of TF 141. This marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. One that would challenge your resilience and skill more than any previous assignment.

Joining TF 141 wasn't just a promotion. It was being welcomed into a family of elite soldiers. While Soap and Gaz took an immediate liking to you, appreciating your wit and marksmanship, Ghost was initially more reserved. His trust was not easily won. It had to be earned on the battlefield not just through training exercises back at base.

Your defining moment came during a perilous mission in the frozen expanses of Russia within your first year with the 141. The mission had quickly gone sideways. Ghost found himself in the deadly crosshairs of an enemy sniper. With the situation deteriorating rapidly and no clear shot available to him your actions in those critical seconds would forever change the dynamics of your relationship with Ghost. From a concealed position you took out the opposing sniper with a single, precise shot, saving Ghost’s life.

This act erased any last reservations Ghost might have held. From then on he saw you not just as another sharpshooter but as an indispensable member of the team, his team. Your ability to make life-saving decisions under intense pressure proved your strength. Not just in terms of physical prowess but in intellectual and tactical acumen as well.

Since then you have become an integral part of TF 141's operations. Your journey from a promising recruit noticed by Captain Price to a pivotal player in some of the team’s most critical missions has been defined by relentless dedication and the deep trust you've earned from some of the military's toughest warriors.

The shrill beep of the alarm slices through the stillness of your room dragging you from the shallow waters of restless sleep into the harsh reality of dawn. For a moment as you blink against the dim light filtering through the barracks' curtains, the room spins slightly—a disorienting dance that forces you to close your eyes again.

You’ve always been the type who never gets sick. The one who breezes through the cold season unscathed while others succumb around you. Your robust health has been a point of pride, a badge of reliability in TF 141. But this morning something is different, and you know it immediately.

Your body aches profoundly, each muscle groaning with a weariness that feels bone-deep, and your head pounds with the relentless rhythm of a dull, throbbing drum. Swallowing feels like dragging sandpaper down your throat. An unfortunate wave of nausea rolls through you as you sit up. It has to be the flu, you think grimly, recognizing the unmistakable and unforgiving symptoms.

Despite the clear signs of illness, the thought of calling in sick doesn’t even cross your mind. It’s not just about pride. There’s also a deep-seated belief that you can handle anything, a belief that has carried you through countless challenges.

With a heavy, determined sigh, you push yourself off the bed. Standing unsteadily for a moment, you use the wall to keep yourself upright. Today is not the day to show weakness, not the day to break your perfect record of health. You decide to power through. To dress and join your team for the morning drills under the rising sun. The thought of letting them down by your absence is more daunting than the physical discomfort threatening to overwhelm you.As you gear up, each movement measured and more deliberate than usual, you steel yourself for the day ahead. Today, you'll prove—not just to your team, but to yourself—that not even the flu can keep you from standing alongside your comrades.

Stepping out into the cool, pre-dawn air, you allow yourself a moment to feel the chill against your fevered skin. It’s oddly refreshing, a natural contrast to the unnatural heat of your illness. It’s bound to be short lived though as the sun’s rays already feel warm on your skin. The training field is a short walk away and with each step you rehearse the day’s routine in your mind. A mantra against the physical discomfort.

As the briefing wraps up and the team begins to disperse to their respective training stations you feel the weight of Ghost’s gaze right on you. Despite the heaviness of your limbs and the fog in your brain, this unspoken solidarity from your teammates, especially Ghost, gives you a sliver of strength.

With each step towards the day’s first drill your resolve hardens. You're not just fighting the flu; you're fighting to maintain the trust and respect you’ve earned. Today, the battlefield is here, within yourself, and you're determined to prove your mettle. You are keenly aware of being one of the few women in the unit and the additional scrutiny that comes with it. It's crucial that you show no weakness even as your body wages its quiet rebellion. Your head pounds with a relentless ache. Your limbs are heavy. And every breath feels like an effort. Despite these symptoms screaming flu, you've chosen silence—no complaints, no excuses.

When you arrive at the training field the usual bustle of activity sharply contrasts with your internal struggle. Everyone is focused on what needs to be done, their attention solely on performance. As Captain Price begins the morning briefing his voice sounds like a distant echo in your ears drowned out by the pounding in your head. The day's challenges loom large, testing your limits before you've even started.

As you make your way to the lineup, the crisp morning air begins to turn warm, almost uncomfortable warm already. Soap falls into step beside you, his familiar grin lighting up his face as he launches into the light-hearted banter that typically marks your mornings together.

“Morning! Ready to outshoot us all again today?” Soap teases before giving you a gentle nudge with his elbow, expecting your usual lively retort.

You manage only a weak smile, one that doesn't quite reach your eyes, and nod faintly. The flu has buried your usual quick wit under a heavy weight of fatigue and discomfort. It takes all your effort just to keep standing without revealing how much you're struggling.

Soap’s smile quickly falters at your lack of reply, his eyes narrowing in concern. “You okay, lass?” he asks. His tone shifting to something more serious.

You nod again, swallowing hard against the surge of nausea. “Yeah, just tired,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You're careful not to reveal the full extent of your ailment, not here, not in front of your team.

From a short distance away Ghost's intense gaze follows the exchange. Though his presence is more subdued, and his demeanor reserved, his attention to detail remains sharp. You can feel his concern even without words. His posture is alert, his body tensed as if ready to act at a moment's notice.

Ghost offers no overt gestures of worry; he doesn't need to. The slight tightening of his stance is a silent signal of his readiness to intervene. His eyes, just visible through the slits of his mask, never wander, tracking your every move with a vigilance that speaks volumes. You know he's always watching out for his team, and today, his protective focus is unmistakably fixed on you.

"Alright, let's warm up! Start with sprints!" Captain Price commands. His voice cuts through the morning air, decisive and clear. You line up with your teammates, the grass cool and slightly damp under your boots. The whistle pierces the calm, and you propel yourself forward. Each step is a battle, your muscles protesting every movement. Yet you push through the fatigue and dizziness.

After sprints the drills shift to push-ups. Down on the warm, wet grass you feel the earth against your palms, stabilizing yet unforgiving. You count each repetition, your muscles burning and a thin layer of sweat forming, which only seems to heighten the chills that intermittently rack your body.

Sit-ups come next and with each crunch a wave of nausea threatens your composure. The world tilts slightly with each lift, blurring at the edges. Captain Price’s footsteps approach. His presence looming. "Let’s see that strength, Y/N! Don’t slack now!" he urges. The encouragement is meant to inspire but it feels like a heavy mantle on your already burdened shoulders.

“Yes sir.” You manage to get out between crunches.

As you struggle through each exercise you can't ignore the hot flashes followed by chills, the hallmark of flu symptoms. Each movement is more taxing than the last and the temptation to give in and rest grows stronger. However, your determination doesn't waver. You are here to prove yourself, to demonstrate that neither flu nor fatigue can break your resolve. You need to showcase the unwavering strength of not just a skilled sniper, but a resilient soldier.

As the whistle blows, Captain Price directs everyone to break into their respective teams for more specialized, team-based drills. You find yourself grouped with Ghost, Gaz, and Soap. Your usual teammates and three of the unit's most competent operatives. Your heart sinks a bit. Their proficiency and teamwork are unmatched and under normal circumstances you would feel invigorated by the challenge. Today, however, it feels like an uphill battle.

"Alright, team," Gaz announces with a nod, "we’re up for the relay sprints and tactical positioning exercises. We need to be sharp and synchronized. Let's show these assholes how it's done."

You nod silently, attempting to muster a semblance of enthusiasm. Soap claps you on the shoulder giving you a reassuring smile, likely mistaking your subdued quietness for focused determination rather than the fatigue that’s slowly overtaking you.

The drills begin with relay sprints. You watch as Soap takes off with his usual speed. His figure swiftly cutting through the warming afternoon air. Gaz follows, moving with practiced ease. Then it’s your turn. As you push off your legs feel as though they are wading through molasses, your usually sharp agility significantly dulled by the flu’s tenacious grip. Each step feels heavier than the last as your breathing becomes ragged and unsteady.

Compounding your discomfort, the gear you're clad in feels unbearably hot against your skin. The layers that are usually a second nature in your fieldwork now seem like a furnace, trapping in every ounce of body heat. Your temperature rises not just from the fever, but also from the exhaustive exertion and the insulated heat from your tactical vest. Sweat beads on your forehead, not entirely from the physical activity but also from the early signs of heat exhaustion—your body’s desperate attempt to cool down under the layers.

Despite feeling increasingly overheated and nearly overwhelmed, you hide your discomfort well. Your face remains stoic, betraying none of the battle raging within your body against the heat and illness. To an outsider you might just appear intensely focused. But beneath the surface you're fighting a much tougher battle, trying to keep pace while your body screams for relief.

Ghost, from his vantage point, watches closely. His sharp eyes catch the subtle signs that others might miss—the slight falter in your step, the way you're breathing a little too hard after your sprint. His gaze intensifies with concern etched across his face as he monitors your every move, aware that something isn’t right but waiting for you to signal if you need assistance.

When you pass the baton to Ghost your hand trembles slightly. He catches it and for a brief moment your eyes meet. There's a flash of concern across his usually impassive face, a subtle shift that speaks volumes. He nods at you before taking off, his movements fluid and precise, yet his mind clearly not fully on the drill. His glance back at you is quick, discreet, checking to ensure you’re still on your feet.

As the exercises continue with the tactical positioning drills, the demands increase. This part of the training requires quick movements and even quicker thinking as each team member needs to cover different angles and work together seamlessly. You position yourself to cover Ghost’s flank, aiming to maintain your usual high standards. However, the world begins to tilt alarmingly. Your vision swims and the ground beneath you feels as if it’s shifting forcing you to steady yourself against a nearby tree.

Ghost, now at a slight distance, turns sharply in response to your stagger. His eyes narrow, not with disapproval, but with intensified concern. He makes a subtle move to close the distance between you, his instincts as a protector kicking in. Yet, he stops himself, respecting your pride and your ability to signal if you need help. He positions himself strategically, so he’s close enough to intervene quickly if needed. His body tensed and ready to act.

“Y/N, you alright?” Gaz’s voice suddenly cuts through your fog of discomfort, and you realize you’ve attracted more attention than you intended.

You straighten up quickly, nodding more sharply than necessary. “Just lost my footing for a second,” you lie. Managing a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Ghost, who has now subtly shifted his position to provide you with both physical and moral support, keeps his gaze fixed on you for a moment longer. He doesn’t call you out on your obvious discomfort. Instead, he gives you a nod, an unspoken communication between you two. It’s his way of saying he’s there, just in case, without putting you on the spot in front of the others.

His presence helps you gather your strength to continue. Despite the unease churning inside you knowing that Ghost is watching over you with such attentiveness gives you a small, but significant boost of confidence. You focus on the drills, pushing through the nausea and instability, bolstered by the knowledge that help is just a few steps away if you truly need it.

You begin to feel the oppressive heat bearing down on you more intensely than before. Each breath feels like you're inhaling fire. And the tactical gear, usually a familiar weight, now feels like an unbearable burden. Trapping too much heat against your body. More and more sweat beads on your forehead mixing with the slight dizziness that refuses to fade. The discomfort is escalating and despite your best efforts to mask it the heat is becoming unmanageable.

Ghost was still maintaining a discreet distance, watches you with sharp, observant eyes. He senses the subtle changes in your posture and the slight grimace that you can't quite hide each time you move. His concern deepens but he waits for a sign from you, respecting your pride and your position within the team.

As the drills continue you find it increasingly difficult to focus. The world seems to shimmer with heat around the edges and you feel a wave of nausea stronger than before. Recognizing that you might be in more trouble than you initially thought you catch Ghost's gaze across the field. It's a silent plea for understanding, a subtle acknowledgment that you do need his help after all.

Ghost responds immediately, his instincts as your LT kicking into high gear. He crosses the distance between you with a few quick strides. His approach discreet yet filled with purpose. “Everything okay?” he asks quietly. His voice low enough that only you can hear. It’s clear he’s prepared to step in, to offer whatever support you need without drawing unwanted attention to your struggle.

Your attempt to respond is less than reassuring. "Heat… too, it’s not the... can't—why can’t the air?" you mumble. Your words tangling into an unintelligible mess, a clear indicator that you are far from alright.

The expression behind Ghost's mask tightens, his protective instincts flaring as he assesses your condition with even greater alarm. Your face is flushed from more than just the heat. It's clear you're struggling significantly under the weight of your gear and the relentless sun.

At that moment Captain Price's voice cuts sharply through the air, his tone laced with the urgency of the drill. "Let's move it, Ghost, Y/N!" he commands from a distance, seemingly oblivious to the severity of your distress. His focus is on the continuity and discipline of the training. Unaware that one of his own is teetering on the edge of collapse.

Ghost’s response is swift and decisive. Without drawing attention to the situation, he steadies you with one arm, his other hand signaling subtly to Captain Price that something isn’t right. "Give us a moment, sir," he calls back firmly, his tone respectful yet insistent enough to convey the seriousness of the issue without alarming the entire unit.

He turns back to you, his gaze intense. "We need to get you out of the sun," he states quietly, directing you towards a shaded area nearby. His hand remains supportively on your back, guiding but not pushing. His presence a steady force as you stagger slightly under your own weight.

Once under the shade, Ghost helps you remove your tactical vest, easing the burden of the heat trapped against your body. The cooler air hits your skin, offering a momentary relief that you hadn't realized you needed so desperately. But as your body starts to cool an unexpected shiver runs through you, violent and uncontrollable. It feels as though the temperature has plummeted, though the day remains swelteringly hot.

"Ghost," you stutter out between shivers, "it's so cold." Your teeth chatter, a stark contrast to the sweat that still beads on your forehead. The sudden coldness is disorienting, confusing, and you clutch at your arms in an attempt to warm yourself.

"Simon," you manage to say between shivers. His actual name slipping out amidst the confusion—an unusual slip that does not escape his notice. Ghost, or Simon as you now call him, recognizes the gravity of the situation immediately. The usual protocols and formalities fade into the background as he prioritizes your wellbeing above all else.

You blink rapidly trying to focus as your surroundings become a blur. The ground seems to tilt beneath you for a second time and a wave of darkness edges your vision. Simon watches you closely with an arm around your waist in case. His trained eyes catching every sign of your deteriorating condition.

“Hang on,” he urges. His voice steady but the concern is palpable. Before he can offer more reassurance your knees buckle beneath you. Your body finally giving way to the overwhelming symptoms. And suddenly the world goes dark in your eyes.

Simon catches you before you hit the ground his arms securing you firmly yet gently. “Medic!” he shouts. The urgency in his voice cutting through the morning air without a hint of hesitation. Captain Price who had been overseeing the drills from a short distance, turns sharply at the sound. His quick assessment of the situation bringing him running.

Price approaches just as Simon adjusts his hold on you, bringing your body to the ground so you were laying.  “What happened?” Price asks. His voice a mix of command and concern.

“Heat stroke, I think—she’s out,” Simon responds curtly. His gaze fixed on you as he checks your pulse and looks for any sign of recovery. Your brief moments of unconsciousness are fleeting but each second is critical.

As you flutter your eyes open, confusion mingles with the need to communicate. “Simon... it’s all spinning,” you murmur with your voice overly weak. The use of his first name again in such a vulnerable state only cements his resolve to get you the help you need immediately.

As Simon kneels beside you he carefully supports your head, his eyes searching yours for any sign of recognition. “Can you tell me where you are?” he asks again. His voice a mix of firmness and concern trying to assess the level of your disorientation.

You blink slowly but the effort to focus feeling monumental. Your gaze drifts over the familiar yet strangely distant figures of Soap and Gaz before returning to Simon. “We're... in Bosnia?” you murmur hesitantly, the name of a recent mission location slipping out, completely unrelated to your current setting on the training field.

Simon’s expression tightens, a flicker of worry crossing his features as he realizes the depth of your confusion. He exchanges a quick, grave look with Captain Price who has been monitoring the situation closely. The incorrect answer confirms the seriousness of your condition, prompting Price to look around, expecting the medics to be approaching swiftly.

However, as Simon scans the area his frustration mounts. The medics, possibly delayed or misinformed about the severity of the situation, are nowhere in sight. Realizing that waiting even a moment longer could jeopardize your well-being he makes a decisive call.

"Not fast enough," Simon mutters under his breath. His protective instincts overriding protocol. Without waiting for the medics to arrive he gently but firmly scoops you up in his arms. His movements are swift and determined as he begins to rush you towards the infirmary. His concern for your immediate safety taking precedence over everything else.

Captain Price, upon seeing Simon’s sudden movement, understands the gravity of the decision and immediately acts. "Clear the way!” he shouts, commanding the attention of everyone on the field.

As Simon carries you, the world around you becomes a blur of motion and sound, but his steady grip provides a reassuring constant. "Hang on love, we're almost there. Just stay with me," he urges. His voice a soothing presence amid the confusion.

With each step Simon takes your sense of time and space dims, the urgency of his stride and the rhythm of his heartbeat blending into the background noise of the base. As you approach the infirmary you see figures moving quickly to prepare for your arrival.

Simon’s pace doesn’t falter until he reaches the medical staff waiting at the infirmary doors. As he gently hands you over to their care his gaze lingers on yours filled with concern and an unspoken promise of unwavering support, no matter the circumstances.

In the cool, sterile environment of the infirmary, Ghost stands a vigilant watch beside your bed. His gaze locked onto your face as the medical team works rapidly to stabilize your condition. The typical stoic mask he wears has fallen away, replaced by an expression etched with deep concern. Each furrow of his brow and tight set of his jaw reveals more than usual concern. It speaks of a profound fear that he rarely allows others to see.

As the medical staff step back momentarily to fetch additional supplies, Ghost's role shifts subtly but significantly. He transforms from a mere observer into an active caretaker, a role those in TF 141 rarely witness. He picks up a damp cloth and gently wipes your forehead. His touch delicate and caring, betraying the roughness expected from his formidable field presence.

"Hey, love, can you hear me?" he murmurs. His voice soft and laden with a tenderness that surprises even him. The word 'love' slips out naturally. A term of endearment that he hasn't used lightly before. This slip, this small but significant deviation from his usual manner, is a clear sign of his deepening feelings. Feelings he might not have fully acknowledged until this very moment.

You blink slowly, responding to the sound of his voice. Ghost watches for any sign of recognition, any indication that you understand his presence. As you meet his gaze, there's a moment of relief that passes over his features. But it's quickly replaced by renewed worry as he continues to monitor your responses.

He is utterly overwhelmed. A feeling that's foreign to him. He's faced countless dangers without flinching but the sight of you so vulnerable stirs a fear in him that battlefield threats never have. He realizes perhaps more clearly than ever how deeply his feelings for you run. It's not just friendship or brotherly protection. It's something much deeper, more personal.

He stays close, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. The contact is meant to comfort you but it also grounds him, reminding him that you're still here, still fighting. "Stay with me, okay?" he adds quietly, almost pleadingly. This is not just a command from a superior officer; it's a personal plea from someone who cares deeply.

Ghost's presence in the infirmary becomes a constant, a guardian ensuring that no detail is overlooked, no necessary treatment delayed. His commitment to your recovery is unwavering, his actions driven by a mix of professional duty and personal concern that has become inseparable. The realization that his feelings for you have evolved adds a new weight to every decision, every action he takes on your behalf.

A few hours later, the haze of confusion and illness that enveloped your mind begins to clear slightly. As your eyes flutter open, the stark white lights of the infirmary momentarily blind you, and the unfamiliar sounds of medical equipment beep rhythmically in the background. Disoriented, you try to recall the sequence of events that led to this moment.

Sitting beside your bed, Ghost notices the subtle signs of consciousness returning. He leans forward, his presence reassuring amidst the clinical surroundings. "Hey, you're awake," he says gently. His voice a soothing contrast to the beeping machines. "Take it easy. You gave us quite a scare out there."

As fragments of memory return—the unbearable heat of the training field, your faltering steps, the feeling of collapse—your face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. The realization that you succumbed in front of your team, particularly because of a flu exacerbating the situation, is hard to accept.

Ghost reads the embarrassment in your expression and quickly addresses it. "Listen, there’s no need to feel embarrassed. You’re dealing with the flu on top of everything else. Heat stroke is serious and it’s a lot for anyone to handle. Especially when you’re already under the weather," he reassures you earnestly.

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. His touch grounding. "Even the toughest soldiers need to take a step back sometimes. It’s okay to acknowledge that you’re human, that you have limits. It doesn't diminish your strength," he continues in your silence. His voice imbued with empathy and understanding.

Feeling the sincerity in his words helps ease some of your discomfort. "Thanks, Simon," you manage to whisper, your voice still weak but filled with gratitude. The informal use of his first name in such a vulnerable moment speaks volumes about the trust and comfort you’ve grown to have in him.

Simon offers a gentle smile. His eyes softening. "You’re always pushing yourself to be the best and that’s certainly admirable. But sometimes, taking care of yourself is part of being the best. Don’t blame yourself for this. I certainly don’t blame you for trying," he adds, affirming his support in you.

"Sleep now. Don’t worry about the rest for now. We’re all here for you," he suggests while still holding your hand, his steady presence a comforting constant as you drift back towards unconsciousness. His commitment to your well-being is clear not just as a teammate but as someone who cares deeply on a personal level.

As you close your eyes, comforted by his words and presence, you feel a profound sense of relief. Simon's quiet vigil lets you know that no matter what, you’re not alone. Periodically, he checks the IV line and adjusts the cold packs making sure to monitor your recovery closely.. Each time you stir or grimace in discomfort, he’s there, adjusting your position or simply offering a reassuring touch.

As the hours pass Ghost remains by your side, a silent sentinel. Even as you're asleep he doesn’t leave, instead pulling up a chair to sit beside your bed. Occasionally, other members of the team peek in offering quiet words of support. But it's clear Ghost has appointed himself your primary guardian during this vulnerable time.

This unexpected role of caretaker reveals a depth to Ghost that goes beyond his tactical prowess and battlefield grit. In the infirmary, with the soft hum of medical equipment in the background, his softer, caring nature comes to the forefront, showcasing a profound sense of loyalty and protectiveness towards his team. Especially towards you.

As the day's tension slowly ebbs away in the quiet of the infirmary, you sleep deeply, recovering from the ordeal. Ghost sits steadfast by your side. His focus is solely on you. His usually impassive gaze softened by concern. The door creaks open softly as Soap and Gaz walk in. Both their faces splitting into mischievous grins when they see Ghost in his uncharacteristic role as your caretaker.

“Never thought I’d see Ghost play the doting nurse,” Soap chuckles quietly. Trying to keep his voice low to avoid disturbing you. “What’s next? Will you be knitting her a sweater?”

Gaz joins in leaning against the door frame with a smirk playing on his lips, “Maybe a nice scarf to go with it, mate. Make sure it matches her eyes, yeah?” His comment draws a soft laugh from Soap. Their teasing lightening the atmosphere of the infirmary.

Their laughter, though subdued, is a needed release after the day’s stress. It’s filled with genuine affection and respect for both you and Ghost. They understand the stakes of such moments and the bonds they forge.

Ghost, not missing a beat, shoots them a pointed look. His response is tinged with his characteristic dry humor. "Keep it up, and you'll be on the next solo recon mission in the coldest part of Siberia," he replies. His tone firm but with a faint smirk betraying his amusement.

In the background Captain Price stands silently in the doorway. His observant eyes taking in the scene. He watches Ghost’s interactions with a discerning eye, noting the subtle softness in his usually stoic demeanor. Price is no stranger to the complexities of personal dynamics within his team. And he senses the potential implications of Ghost’s deepening concern for you. There’s a hint of understanding in his gaze, mixed with caution, as he ponders the path this could lead down.

As the laughter begins to die down Price steps forward, his presence commanding a subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere. He gives Soap and Gaz a brief nod, a clear signal that it’s time for them to leave. The moment for jokes has passed and it's time to restore some decorum. As they exit Soap can’t resist throwing one final teasing comment over his shoulder. “Take good care of her, Ghost!” he calls out as his tone is playful yet sincere.

Price remains a moment longer his gaze lingering on Ghost and then shifting to you, asleep and unaware of the exchange. There’s a quiet gravity to his demeanor, an unspoken reminder of his leadership role and his understanding of the deeper currents flowing beneath the surface of his team’s interactions.

Captain Price approaches Ghost, his footsteps quiet but purposeful. He pauses beside him, his voice low and measured to ensure privacy. "Simon," he begins. His tone serious but not without warmth, "you're handling this well and it's clear you care deeply. Just remember, maintaining balance is crucial." His eyes, steady and understanding, meet Ghost's, acknowledging the depth of his concern while gently reminding him of his broader responsibilities.

"Don't lose focus. We rely on you—not just for her, but for the whole team," Price continues, his voice softening slightly to underscore his supportive intent.

Ghost nods, the gravity of Price's words resonating with him. "Understood, sir," he responds, his tone reflecting both respect for Price's leadership and an acute awareness of the weight on his shoulders.

Price places a hand on Ghost's shoulder, a gesture that speaks of his care and mutual respect. "Keep me posted. If there's anything you need don't hesitate to ask," he adds. Emphasizing his role not just as a commander but as a supporter willing to provide resources rather than merely oversee.

"Will do, sir," Ghost says, his voice steady as he watches Price prepare to leave the infirmary. Price gives him one last affirming nod—an acknowledgment of Ghost's commitment and his understanding of the emotional complexities involved. As Price walks away his demeanor reflects as a leader who trusts his team to handle personal challenges with professionalism yet remains ready to step in if the balance shifts too far.

Once alone again Ghost turns back to you, his expression softening as he adjusts the blanket around you and checks the monitors to ensure everything is as it should be. In these quiet moments his demeanor reveals the profound loyalty and protectiveness he feels. Traits that define him just as much as his combat skills.

The room is quiet, the only sounds are the gentle beeping of the medical equipment and your steady breathing. In this sanctuary away from the battlefield's chaos, Ghost’s vigilance continues, a promise of unwavering support.

In the dimly lit infirmary, the soft beeps of the monitor blend with the quiet sounds of the night. Ghost sits closely by your side, his eyes tracing over your peaceful face, contrasting sharply with the day’s earlier tension. The room is calm now, the urgency has passed, but the weight of the day lingers in the air heavy with unspoken words.

Leaning closer Ghost watches you for a long moment. His expression a mix of concern and something softer, more vulnerable. He knows you can’t hear him, but the words slip out quietly anyway. A whisper meant only for you. "You’re killing me here, love," he murmurs. The hint of a smile touching his lips despite the worry in his eyes. It’s a rare admission. One that reveals just how deeply he’s been affected by your condition.

He sighs lightly, the sound almost lost in the quiet of the room. Adjusting the blanket around you one last time to ensure you’re as comfortable as possible, he finally leans back in his chair. His gaze remains fixed on you a moment longer as a guardian watching over you.

Realizing the lateness of the hour and the exhaustion settling into his bones Ghost decides he wasn’t willing to leave you yet. Not when you’d hardly regained consciousness and certainly not when you might need him upon waking. He shifts to make himself as comfortable as possible in the chair beside your bed, his body angled to keep you in sight.

As he settles in, his eyes slowly close but it’s clear he’s not completely given over to sleep. Even in rest, he’s alert, ready to wake at the slightest change in your condition. In this quiet vigil, his presence is both a promise and a protection. A steadfast commitment to be there for you when you finally do wake.

The night deepens around the two of you. The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor a constant in the otherwise still room. Ghost, in his chair, remains by your side. A figure in the dim light embodying both the warrior and the caretaker in this rare moment of peace.

As the first light of dawn begins to filter through the blinds of the infirmary your eyes flutter open greeting the new day with a mix of confusion and sluggish awareness. Initially, your vision is blurry, the shapes and colors of the room melding into indistinct forms. Gradually though your eyes adjust, and the figure slumped in the chair beside your bed comes into sharper focus. Ghost, asleep, his head resting awkwardly against the wall.

The sight of him so uncharacteristically vulnerable in sleep immediately warms your heart. Despite the residual fog clouding your mind a soft smile plays on your lips. "Ghost," you call out, your voice hoarse but audible enough to stir him from his light slumber.

At the sound of your voice Ghost snaps awake, instantly alert. He straightens up before rubbing the stiffness from his neck as he turns to face you. His eyes that displayed a flicker of reprieve meet yours. "Hey, you're awake," he says. His voice rough with sleep but tinged with unmistakable relief. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better, thanks to you," you reply. Your voice was still weak but filled with gratitude. "You stayed all night?"

Ghost nods, a soft expression crossing his face as he hears your voice. This subtle return to normalcy reassures him. Warming his heart and letting him know you must be feeling a bit better to revert to familiar terms. "Yes, I stayed. Didn’t want you to wake up alone here," he replies. His tone gentle. Ghost’s eyes scan your face for signs of pain or lingering confusion, ever the vigilant guardian.

"Thanks, Ghost. Really," you manage to say feeling comforted not only by his presence but also by the return to a semblance of normalcy. His constant vigilance, even as you slept, speaks volumes of his dedication not just to his duty but to you personally.

Ghost offers a slight smile, one that reaches his eyes this time. "No need to thank me. Just glad to see you're doing better," he says. He pulls a chair closer to your bed, settling in. "Need anything? Water? More pain meds?" he asks. Ready to assist with whatever you might need.

The simple exchange is light yet filled with unspoken care helps to ease the remaining tension from the ordeal. As Ghost continues to make sure you’re comfortable, you feel a profound sense of safety and appreciation for the bond that has only deepened through this experience. The conversation drifts into a comfortable silence filled with unspoken understanding and mutual respect. In this quiet early morning hour, a new layer of your relationship has been gently unfolded. Revealing the depth of connection that hardship and vulnerability can foster.

As the morning sun continues to pour a warm glow into the infirmary the doctor finishes his examination and nods with satisfaction. "You’ve made a remarkable recovery. I think you're ready to be discharged today. Just remember to take it easy for the next few days," he advises as he begins to pack away his equipment.

Ghost's reaction is almost immediate, his brow furrowing with concern. "Are you sure she’s ready?" he questions the doctor. His voice carrying a protective edge that makes you smile inwardly. His overt protectiveness is both touching and reassuring. A stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.

The doctor, accustomed to dealing with the cautious nature of soldiers about their comrades, reassures him with a confident nod. "Yes, she's stable. Just ensure she rests and avoids any strenuous activity. She should be fine," he explains patiently.

Despite the reassurance Ghost still looks unconvinced. His gaze flicking back to you, searching for any sign of discomfort or lingering weakness. "Maybe another day for observation?" he suggests. His tone half-questioning, half-requesting. It's evident he'd prefer you stay under medical supervision a bit longer.

Your heart warms at his concern and though you find his overprotectiveness endearing, you keep your thoughts to yourself. Instead, offering him a reassuring squeeze of his hand instead. "Ghost, I think I’ll be okay," you assure him gently trying to alleviate his worries.

Ghost manages a small smile. His usual impassive facade softening. "Just making sure," he mutters. Though his eyes remain tender with concern. He finally nods accepting the doctor's verdict, but his posture stays alert, protective.

"Alright, I’ll hold you to that. But we’re taking it slow for the next few days. I’ll let Price know." he declares. His tone firm, directed more at himself than anyone else.

As the doctor leaves Ghost assists you in gathering your belongings. His movements careful and considerate. He checks in frequently asking if you're feeling alright to continue, his cautiousness evident but heartening. It’s clear that although you’ve been given the all-clear Ghost will be keeping a close eye on you, ensuring your recovery proceeds without issue.

His unwavering attention not only makes you feel deeply cared for but also subtly deepens the bond between you, underscoring a shift in your relationship where his role as protector has become as instinctive as it is essential.

As you swing your legs off the bed and attempt to stand a momentary wave of dizziness makes your legs waver slightly. Instantly, Ghost is there, his hand firm on your waist, steadying you. His touch is gentle yet secure, grounding you in the moment.

You laugh it off with a light flush coloring your cheeks. "Just wobbly legs," you joke trying to ease the tension you feel from his close presence. Despite your attempt to downplay the situation your movements are still a bit too brisk. A clear sign you might be overestimating your current strength.

Ghost doesn't smile but there's a tenderness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. "Take it slow, love," he advises, his tone almost demanding. His hand remains on your back as a discreet but constant presence. He guides you slowly out of the infirmary. You feel the steadiness of his support with each step you take. His careful pace ensures you don't overexert yourself, allowing you time to adjust as you walk. The corridor seems longer than you remember but Ghost’s reassuring presence makes the journey feel safer, more manageable.

"You don’t have to rush this," he continues. Sensing your eagerness to prove your recovery. "We’ll get there when we get there." His words are simple but effective reminding you that your health is the priority not the speed of your recovery.

As you proceed you lean slightly into his support realizing how crucial his support has been, not just physically but also emotionally. Ghost’s unwavering steadiness helps bolster your confidence, making you feel that no matter how shaky your steps might be you won't fall as long as he’s by your side.

The walk back to your room is quiet but comfortable. It’s filled with an unspoken understanding that something significant has shifted between you. When you reach your door, Ghost finally pulls his hand away, but the warmth of his touch lingers.

"Thanks again, Ghost. For everything," you say while meeting his gaze. It's an open acknowledgment of all he's done and all he might continue to do.

"Anytime, love. Just... please take care of yourself," he responds. There’s a promise in his words, an implication that he'll always be nearby, watching over you.

As you reach the door to your quarters, Simon pauses, his hand resting lightly against the frame. "Can I help you get settled back in?" he asks. His tone as soft as it has been before, something new that has overcome him in your incident. His concern clearly evident.

You nod, touched by his attentiveness and as you enter your room he follows close behind. Simon watches carefully as you slowly make your way to your bed and sit down, still feeling a bit shaky. The room is familiar and comforting but his presence makes it feel even safer, more serene.

Once you're seated on the bed, he scans the room quickly, always alert for what you might need. "You sure you don't need anything else? Some more water? A snack?” Ghost asks, already moving towards your small kitchenette. He assumed a role that went beyond duty into something more personal.

You smile at his back, warmed by his concern. "I’m fine, Ghost. Really," you reassure him. But he shakes his head, not entirely convinced.

"It's no trouble at all. You should eat something," he insists gently while fetching a glass of water and a small snack from your stash. Simple things that you hadn't thought you’d needed until he presented them. As he hands you the glass his fingers brush yours lightly, sending a small, unexpected shiver up your arm. You thank him with a soft smile, touched by his thoughtfulness.

Noticing a few strands of hair falling over your face, Simon reaches out and gently brushes them back, his touch delicate and caring. His hand lingers for a moment, a silent expression of his deeper feelings.

You’re momentarily stunned but thrilled, nonetheless. You find it hard to find words as his hand lingers on your face. "I know I keep thanking you but thanks again Simon. For... well, for everything," you say after a moment. Your voice low and sincere. Using his first name feels natural, reflecting the shift in your relationship.

He pauses, looking into your eyes with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. "I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be," he replies. His voice so soft it’s nearly a whisper, revealing the depth of his feelings.

"If you need anything else, just let me know. I'll be just a call away, love," He adds imbued with a warmth that reassures and comforts. His use of ‘love’ is tender, an endearment that resonates deeply, marking a significant moment in your ever evolving relationship.

He gives you a lingering look that was filled with care and a promise of protection before he reluctantly steps towards the door. There's a hint of hesitation in his movement, a subtle pause that conveys his desire to stay longer.

As he exits, gently closing the door behind him, you lie back against your pillows, the glass of water in your hand. His presence has left a comforting warmth in the room. A sense of safety that lulls you towards rest. The thought of Simon being just a call away brings a smile to your face. And as you close your eyes it’s not just the fatigue that makes you feel at ease. It’s knowing Simon is there, caring for you with a tenderness that goes beyond the call of duty.

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[rasoyas]

i just found a huge folder archive of most of kiss me in komorebi and :'((( shit's boutta make me start the whole thing over. it was sooo rushed and daniel was still formulating as a character for me as he passed through so many different trials and tribulations: idk if he was ever truly the type of man who could thrive in a challenge like this, tbh. he loved them all so much and for their own reasons

and tbh what happened to julesx2 was NOT FAIR. dskjfhd ugh i will definitely have to revisit this at some point. i miss them all so much :'(

@buglaur @rebouks @anarchosimdicalist @retro-plasma @mattodore @gothoffspring i'm deleting this i promise but AHHH look ;~;

[luckykiwiii101]

Hi Wii!! 💖

It's finally my turn. My own void success story💕💕. ahhh i'm so happy! This is kind of long so sorry for that.

So, just for a back story, I have been terminally ill for a while now. I was always in pain and even after discovering subliminals 5 years ago i was never fully 'able' to get rid of my illness. But then I came across the void state one day on tiktok while looking through shifting methods and instantly knew that it was for me. The thought of it genuinely made me so happy and not in like a 'i'll get all my desires' way but in like a 'ofc i can give myself whatever I want.' way. But i kinda fell down a rabit hole on tumblr and really put the void on a pedestal that i had to 'pass' in order to get anything😔.

But then, a few weeks ago, it really clicked. I did one of those 3-day challenges (i didn't follow anyone elses, just made up my own routine and stuck to it.) and it helped tremendously both with my self concept and void concept. i know these aren't really important but they sure help lol.

Anyway i didn't get in the void in those 3 days but i realised that instead of hating not waking up in the void, my thought process was just ''well, i'm getting closer aren't I?" and i honestly caught myself off guard with that🎀🎀.

But then last night, i got ready for bed and went to sleep. But I kept waking up in the middle of the night because it was kinda hot. Anyway, i had a holiday from school so I was gonna sleep in.

My sister had to go to school tho and we share a room so when she wakes up, i usually do as well just because of all the rustling. She opened the light to our room and i felt a faint light infront of my eyes. I couldn't hear her then for a while but I just assumed that was because she left the room. Then my hearing came back and she was asking me about smth so i opened my eyes but noticed that the 'source' of the light i felt while my eyes were closed was different to which light was open in the room(I really hope that made sense). I then realised that it took awhile for me to properly feel my body again and thats when i realized i was in the void- aware- for once!! 💗💗

I honestly wasn't surprised that I woke up in the void without doing anything because I have full faith in myself but it has really helped me make my belief in the void even stronger. I have a whole list of things i want to get so when i get in the void again tonight, I'm gonna affirm for all my desires!! Wait for my full success story please 💖💖

Also, to all the people out there, i know it's hard but all you genuinely need to do is trust yourself and your power, remember you are The Creator.

Thanks again Wii, you've been great help.

(btw, so sorry for any typos, english is not my first language😔)

Success Story ✨✨✨✨💗💗💗

This is truly amazing!!

IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU!! AND EVEN MORE PROUD THAT YOU ACTUALLY TOOK YOUR LIFE INTO YOUR OWN HANDS!!! MORE PEOPLE SHOULD BE LIKE YOU!!!

[wremms]

Ahhh I love DTIYS’. I may have gone overboard with the patterns (I hope he’s still butterfly enough…)

Also I merged like three different John designs for this so yk.

@mx-paisley honestly this challenged me do draw with more muted colours so that’s neat.

[thetriumphantpanda]

Cruel Summer | Javier Peña (Chapter One)

Javier Peña is back in Laredo, this time for good. He hadn't banked on you still being there, especially not with a wedding ring on your finger. A complicated shared history and plenty of unresolved feelings between the two of you should make for an interesting summer.

Pairing | Javier Peña x reader

Warnings | angst, fluff, swearing, alcohol consumption, eventual smut in future chapters, verbal and slight physical domestic abuse (Not from our boy Javi) but nothing else at this stage.

Word Count | 2.9K

Authors Note | So, Cruel Summer by T Swift has me in a chokehold right now and my boy Javi is getting the multi-chaptered fic he deserves from me. I wanted this to be different to what I've written before, there will be some tough reading but I want to challenge myself with this fic. Please let me know whether you like this - I've got a few chapters written and I can't wait to share them with you. Likes, reblogs, and messages in my ask box help keep me going so please do share your thoughts.

Bad Bad Boy, Shiny Toy With A Price, You Know That I Bought It.

The heat was stifling in Laredo. June had hit hard and no matter of the fact that you’d spent your whole life living here, you’d never quite got used to the summer heat. You could feel a bead of sweat pool at your collarbone as you leant over the sewing machine. Without looking up, you swiped the handkerchief sitting on the side of your worktable and dabbed at it, not wanting it to fall onto the material of Gabriela’s wedding dress that you were currently altering. 

The tinkling of the shop door hitting the bell alerted you to someone in the front of the shop. Sighing that someone had broken the concentration you had been using to focus on the seams of the dress in front of you, you stood up and went to see who had come to visit. 

“Hola Gabriela.” 

Gabriela had been your friend since school. The two of you had been inseparable, even when she’d traded small town Laredo for the bright lights of Austin to get her degree, you’d visited every weekend. As much as you’d always wanted to get out of town yourself you knew no matter what happened you’d be back so you’d decided against signing away your parents life savings and decided to open up a small tailoring shop in town. 

“Hola, querida niña,” She replied, “How are you doing today?” 

“Ah, I’m fine,” You replied, “Apart from melting in the back of the shop altering your dress.” 

“I still can’t thank you enough,” Gabriela gushed, holding a hand over the growing baby bump, “I still can’t quite believe I’m going to be one of those pregnant brides.” 

You chuckled, reaching out a hand to squeeze her shoulder, “You’ll look beautiful regardless,” You reassured her, “You’re already glowing.” 

“You’re too kind,” She replied, “Listen, I only came by to let you know a few of us are heading to the bar tonight if you wanted to join us?” 

“Ahhh Gabriela, I’m not sure, I think Ethan probably wants me at home.” 

She raised her eyebrows at you, “It was actually his idea, so no getting out of this one.”

You sighed but relented, agreeing to meet your friend at the bar once you’d closed up shop later that afternoon before giving her a hug and sending her on her way with a promise that she could come and try the altered dress on next week. 

*** 

The bar was packed by the time you arrived from the shop. People had filed in throughout the afternoon to seek shelter from the stifling heat outside. With whiskey and beer running through their veins, many of them had failed to leave after lunchtime. Standing at the bar whilst you waited for the bartender to open your beer you scanned the room looking for your friends. 

You’d found them huddled in a booth in the corner. The number of empty bottles that littered the table let you know they’d been drinking for some time. You hated it when Ethan drank too much. His short career as a college football star boosting his ego enough to make him quite possibly the most unlikeable person you’d ever met, even if you had married him. 

“Can I get a whiskey as well please?” You asked the girl behind the bar once she placed the open bottle of beer in front of you. 

She nodded and was back quickly with the whiskey which you shot in one, placing a couple of notes on the bar to cover the cost before reluctantly joining your friends in the corner. 

“Baby!” Ethan exclaimed when he saw you, pulling you down by the arm to sit on his lap, “What took you so long?” 

You took a long drag of your beer before answering, “Sorry, I was trying to get as much of Gabriela’s dress done as I could.” 

In front of everyone he pushed the hair away from your neck and placed chaste kisses behind your ear and down your neck which caused a shiver to run down your spine and not in a pleasant way. 

“Ethan please, not in front of everyone.” You chastised, standing from his lap to sit on the open chair opposite it, next to Gabriela. 

You watched closely as he shot a glare your way but was soon distracted by Gabriela’s fiancé and the rest of his friends and moved on. 

“You know, I heard some interesting new today.” Gabriela spoke into your ear so you could hear her over the music. 

“Hmmm?” You mused, turning to look at her. 

She paused, looking at the door of the bar, “Well, speak of the devil.” 

Your eyes followed her line of sight at your breath hitched in your throat. Javier Peña. Javier fucking Peña, in the flesh, back in Laredo. You, like most people in town, hadn’t seen him in years. There had been a rumour he’d been back a couple of years ago but had disappeared as soon as he’d arrived, but there was no denying he was here now. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” You murmured, “What the hell is he doing back here?” You asked. 

“Mamá heard from Chucho that he’s back for good,” She spoke, “She doesn’t know the details but something happened in Colombia and that’s all I know.” 

You watched intently as he walked to the bar and ordered a drink. Folks who were sat at the bar or standing around it turned and gave him a welcome, some of the men clapped him on the back or shook his hand, obviously congratulating him for a job well done. 

“Aren’t you going to go and say hello?” Gabriela spoke, lower this time so no-one else on the table could hear her. 

You turned to her with open eyes, panic flooding through your veins. You lifted the bottle of beer to your lips only to find it was empty, your brain had obviously been subconsciously telling you to drink it to keep your anxiety at bay. 

“Looks like you need another, go on!” She all but pushed you from your seat into a throng of people. 

You sighed; she was right. If Javier fucking Peña was going to be in your periphery for the rest of the night you were going to need more alcohol and if he was staying around for a while you needed to rip the band aid off instead of slowly peeling at it. 

You tried to hang back from the bar as much as possible, trying to hide yourself amongst the crowd but it was just your luck that the spot that opened in front of you was right next to him. You stepped forward, leaning against the bar to wait for the bartender to notice you. You turned to face Javier who had his eyes trained into the glass of whiskey. 

“You know, it’s usually tea leaves you read for visions of the future, not whiskey.” 

He lifted his head at your voice, clearly as taken aback by your presence as you were to his. You watched as his eyes looked at your face before the spark of recognition washed over him. 

“Well, I’ll be,” He spoke, “Of all the people I thought that would still be here, you were the last person I would have guessed.” 

You shrugged, “I could say the same for you, last I heard you were gone for good.” 

He shrugged back, “Things didn’t work out.” Was all he offered. 

“That’s not what I heard.” 

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear or read.” 

The bartender stood in front of you, you handed her the empty bottle and asked for another, dropping the notes required to cover the cost on the bar as she walked away. 

“Are you back at the ranch?” You asked, attempting to steer the conversation somewhere that wouldn’t lace his voice with venom. 

“Yeah,” He sighed, “Pops needs help and it’s a good enough distraction right now,” He drained his glass of whiskey, asking the bartender to refill it when she’d placed your beer in front of you, “What about you, what’s keeping you busy?” 

You snorted through your nose, “Nothing grand, I’ve got a little tailoring shop in town, it’s small and most people tend to go to the bigger shop a few streets over but it suits me.” 

He smiled at that, “You were always creative,” He spoke, “I remember that dress you made for the summer party at school, it was lovely.” 

“Thanks,” You said, “I have to admit I’m much better now, Gabriela has entrusted me with altering her wedding dress, it’s probably the biggest responsibility I’ve ever had.” 

“I’m sure you’ll do a great job.” He shot a smile your way. 

“Well, it’s good to see you Javier,” You spoke, picking up your beer, “Don’t be a stranger.”

He placed a hand on yours that was resting on the bar and gave it a soft squeeze before you turned and made your way back to your table. You sat back down next to Gabriela before glancing at Ethan who had a face like thunder. There was no doubt he’d watched your every move when you’d left the table and you knew you were going to pay for that when you both got home. 

***

“Who were you talking to at the bar?” 

You’d barely walked into your house when Ethan started on your interrogation. 

“His name is Javier,” You replied, dropping your bag by the front entrance, “Gabriela and I knew him from school although he was a couple of years above us.” 

“Peña?” He asked, “Laredo’s resident hero?” You didn’t like his tone. 

“If you’re going to say something Ethan, then just say it.”  

“You know how I feel about you talkin’ to other men,” He started, turning away from you to pour himself a glass of whiskey, “You’re my wife.” 

“But talking to your friends is fine?” You asked, knowing that antagonizing him was probably a terrible idea, “Because you chose them, right?” 

“Don’t fuckin’ test me tonight,” He warned, “I saw the way he touched you.” 

“He touched my hand for all of two seconds Ethan, for crying out loud!” You exclaimed, “He was my friend and I’d not seen him in years.” 

You watched as Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose to calm himself down before draining his glass and pouring another one. 

“I want you to stay away from him,” He spoke lowly, the voice you knew was a warning to you to not push him any further, “Chris told me you weren’t just friends so don’t fucking lie to me.” 

“Well Chris is full of bullshit, he didn’t know me then and he sure as hell doesn’t know me now, Javier has never been more than a friend to me, but go ahead, believe whatever you want.” 

You turned on your heel to walk down to the bedroom before feeling a hand clamp around your upper arm and drag you back. 

“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” He spat right into your face, “You stay away from him, do you understand me?” 

“Yes, I understand,” You relented, “Please let go of me Ethan, you’re hurting me.” 

He did as you asked, turning away almost immediately to let you walk away. It was the same as always. You’d do something to upset him, he’d grab you, put pressure on you enough to hurt you and then let you go once you turned on your sickly-sweet voice to tell him you were hurting. Then you’d wrap yourself up in bed, pretend to be asleep when he came to bed and lie awake all night wondering what the hell had gone so wrong with your life. 

***

It had been a busy few days following the weekend. Gabriela had come in for her fitting and had decided the arms on the dress needed to go. It would be too hot, and she would be too pregnant to handle the lace sleeves she’d chosen originally so you’d been pulling long hours in the shop basically constructing her a an entirely new gown. You’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t also avoiding spending too much time at home with Ethan and trying to avoid Javier out in public. 

It was just after lunch time when the door of the shop opened, pulling you from your job of dressing the mannequins with some of the dresses you’d made a few weeks ago and to your dismay, Javier was standing in the doorway with an armful of clothes. 

“Oh, Javier, nice to see you,” You spoke politely, “Just give me a minute to button this up and I’ll be right with you.” 

“Take your time, Querida.” He responded, walking over to the counter to set his items down. 

You quickly fastened the buttons of the dress and placed the mannequin in the window before heading to the counter. 

“What can I do for you?” 

“I’d forgotten quite how ranch life worked,” He admitted, “I’ve popped the buttons off two pairs of jeans since I came back but there’s still life in them, do you think you can replace them?” He asked. 

You unfolded the jeans he’d put on the counter; it would be a simple fix for sure, “Yeah of course, it shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes if you wanted to hang around, I can do them now.” 

“If it’s not too much trouble?” 

“Not at all,” You smiled, taking the jeans in your hands, “If you come back here you can sit whilst I work.” 

You led him into the tiny workshop in the back where you kept your sewing machine. Motioning for him to sit on the chair you kept for customers you took your own chair and rifled through the drawers to find suitable buttons. 

“So, apart from ruining your jeans, how is the ranch treating you?” You asked as you picked out a needle and thread. 

“It’s the same as it’s always been,” He replied, “I guess ranching never changes and Pops has done a good job in keeping it going on his own.” 

“Chucho never fails to amaze me,” You mused as you threaded the needle, “I’m sure he’s glad to have you back.” 

Javier scoffs lightly, “I think mostly I’m a hinderance, I’m not as young as I was and all those cigarettes are finally catching up with me,” You didn’t reply, instead focusing on situating the button before you began sewing it onto the material, “And how about you? Pops said you got married a few years ago?” 

Your hands stilled as you looked up at him, “Uh yeah, it’ll be two years in September,” You forced a smile, “It happened pretty quickly but then most things do down here.”  “What’s he like?” Javier asked, you could feel his eyes boring into you as you tried to concentrate on sewing without stabbing your fingers. 

“He’s nice,” You replied simply, “He runs a sales business with one of his buddies from college which managed to buy us a house last year.”  “Nice, huh?” You knew he could see right through you, “Well I’m glad, you always deserved someone… nice.” 

Another moment when you stilled your hands at their work, this time refusing to meet his gaze that you could tell was still fixed on you, “And you?” You asked back.

“Marriage, me?” You could sense some tension in his voice, “The first time I got near I realized I could never be that man for someone, and I knew Colombia wasn’t forever, so no, I’m not married.” 

“Well, now you’re back I’m sure you’ll find plenty of willing volunteers.” 

He chuckled, but didn’t respond, “And your family, how’re they?” 

“Mamá is the same as always,” You mused, finishing up the sewing of the first button, deciding to look at him this time, “But dad died last year.” 

You watched his features soften a little, “Ah hermosa, I’m sorry.” He offered and you can tell there was genuine sympathy, he’d lost his mother many years ago but must know the pain that comes with losing a parent. 

“Está bien, Javier,” You replied, slipping into the small amount of Spanish you had, “He was sick for a while, so it was more of a relief than anything else.” 

“It’s still never easy,” He offered, “And he was a good man, I’m surprised Pops didn’t say anything, they were close.” 

You shrugged but didn’t say anything opting to focus on finished his second pair of jeans. You worked in silence and were done in a few minutes. 

“There, all done now.” You smiled, folding the two pairs of jeans and handing them back to him before leading him back to the front of the store. 

You handed him the jeans back and watched as he fished into his jeans for his wallet, “Oh don’t worry about it, it was a five-minute job, treat it as a welcome home gift.” 

“Don’t be silly, Querida, let me pay you.” 

“Honestly Javier, put your wallet away.” 

He looked at you and finding the serious look on your face he put his wallet back in his pocket, “Well, thank you, I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem, drop in anytime you need anything.” You called as he turned to walk out of the shop. 

He stilled for a moment at the door and you stared at his back, wondering what was stopping him from leaving before he turned his head slightly over his shoulder to speak to you. 

“I’m sorry, hermosa.” 

And then he was gone. 

PREV | NEXT

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Six

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: AHHH I am honest to god obsessed with this part, been excited for it since the idea came to mind and I also love surprises so, take that as you will... Hope you enjoy! Thank you sm for all the love on this series too, means a whole lot!!

Warnings: again lil bit of self-consciousness, mentions of scarring, heights!

Masterlist

"Mind if I join you?"

I swivelled around on my heel to peer over my shoulder at the sound of the unexpected oncommer.

It was a surprise to find Healy there. Striding across the expanse of roof with an effortless elegance, as though he knew how much he was worth, like he didn’t care who was watching. I sort of envied that.

I opted for feigning nonchalance and simply shrugged in reply, jutting out my chin before forcing my gaze to return to the skyline.

Healy fiddled with something in my peripheral though and the ruffle of cellophane separated the sound of the city below from my smoky exhale.

"You got a lighter?"

It was a needless ask, Heally could already see that I had a cigarette lit in hand but that didn't seem to defer him. It felt as though he was actualing aiming to start up some kind of conversation, which was strange considering how standoffish he’d been during most of his visit.

I spared him another short glance as I went to dig my free hand into my back pocket, noting that his sunglasses were still wired into his curls which meant that I could actually see the way he was watching me now.

When he’d first walked over, Healy had stopped a comfortable distance away, but he closed it when I lifted the lighter up in success. The makeshift patio creaking beneath his weight.

He had his own cigarette dangling loosely from his lower lip, the butt stuck to the inside of the soft flesh as he invaded my space, indicating that he had no intention of taking the lighter from me. I couldn't quite help the way my gaze flitted down to his mouth and then up into his valourous eyes when he did, their colour darker now that his hair had fallen from behind his ear to shield a portion of his face from the sun's shining light.

I looked away almost as soon as Healy met my curious stare and swallowed sparsely before proceeding to flick the sparkwheel. It took two tries before it caught.

The warmth of the iridescent flame tickled my cheek as I held it up, and Healy cupped a hand between both our faces in an attempt to waylay the whistling wind as I moved in to light the cigarette's end.

The lighter was a tacky thing, cheap, and coloured an illuminous orange. I never usually thought much of it, tended to nick them right off of Finn's kitchen counter, or from strangers in the street whenever I needed a light. 

But being this close to Healy, I could literally smell just how expensive the man's aftershave was, how it clung to the gentle curve of his neck. It reminded me of how different we were. Healy was obviously more inclined to the finer things in life- probably even had someone hired to light the poxy things for him.

I was quick to bite back the snort that bubbled within me at the sudden picture that painted, shaking my head as I dropped the lighter down to my side. Though I still wore a small smile when my gaze trailed back over to meet his, almost involuntarily now. And this time I couldn't bring myself to look away just yet.

Healy’s lips twisted into a rueful smirk once he’d inhaled a lungful, unblinking as he observed me once more, and I had to force my body to take a step back when I noted that neither of us had yet to move.

I cleared my throat and raised my hand again, but Healy’s smirk only grew.

"Meant to be quitting, you know." I quipped like many liars before me, hoping to ebb some of the remaining tension that had adhered itself to the air around us as I sucked some life back into my fag's dying flame.

Healy humoured me. 

"How boring."

I huffed a breathy chuckle, a grey trail stuttering out with it.

"I know it's what everyone says, but for me it's true. Been trying to kick the habit ever since I started, to be honest."

I peered back over at him long enough to witness the way he directed an arched brow my way, smoke pooling from his mouth. It was second nature the way he did it, so casual, as though smoking was akin to breathing.

"Why haven't you then?"

The question caught me a little off guard. But only in the way that it was a first for him, at least from how I saw it, to pry into another's life. My life, my brain supplied unhelpfully. A big-shot singer like him to be prolonging our encounter more than necessary, surprised me even more.

Nonplussed, I found myself replying, "Life?"

He snorted pleasantly, "Cheers to that."

I watched on as he hoiked up his hand in a false toast before dropping it weightlessly to his side, dislodging the ash that perched at the end of the cigarette when his hand bounced off his hip.

Mimicking the showy gesture, I dipped my head before I chose to take another long drag, mostly to occupy the silence that enveloped us again more than anything else.

It was then that my mind began to wander. But before I could overthink this entire situation- because, let’s just be honest, I would’ve have to have been fucking barking not to have found this whole ordeal anything other than strange- my head snapped up at a scuffling sound and my eyes instantly tracked the way Healy had all but pounced his way up onto the roof’s ledge.

"You aiming to off yourself, or you simply tempting fate?" I blurted out before I could think better of it, unable to look away. He truly had my full focus now.

He grinned and my jaw ticked as Healy's snazzy boots kicked carelessly at the brickwork that lined the edge of the studio’s building, his soles walking a fine line, prancing along like the three story drop wasn't that much of a threat.

"Fate's far too busy to be fretting with the likes of me, love." He retorted, one hand buried in the jacket he adorned, the other holding his cigarette to his mouth. He paused about a foot away from me and leant forward to peer over the side, causing my poor heart to falter and just about fall out of my arse.

"The hell are you doing!" I snapped, immediately jumping forward to grab at his sleeve before he could tip any further. "You got a fucking death wish, or something?"

Healy only cackled as he rocked back into my tight grip, grinning so widely now. My breath stuttered at the very sound of it, amused but tinged with an edge of mania. And the lazy smile he shot me from over his shoulder after didn’t at all help the way my pulse was now thumping wildly through my veins, the parent in me having sent every nerve-ending into overdrive.

"Or something." He answered, a wily expression dawning.

He did jump down though and once his feet were firmly planted back on the decking, I shoved at his shoulder. "You're a right prick, you know that?"

"Awh, come on. Live a little, Squeaks!"

I shot him a lurid glare, far from amused by the mocking tone he’d taken on or the way he’d poked fun at my name.

"Honestly, what have you got to lose?" Healy went on to say, not paying my reaction any mind at all. I ignored his efforts, but couldn't stop my eyes from following after him when he recklessly returned to the edge, only this time he decidedly took a seat there. "Come on!"

He gestured for me to join him with a jerk of his head and I merely blinked. Stressing over whether or not he was being serious.

Healy’s buoyant grin was fast fading now though, but I wasn’t really too focused on that fact, all I could see as he glanced back at me was how lost he suddenly seemed behind all that bravado. It was hard to notice in truth, but I could see it there, ever so slight, in the hazing shadows casted behind his eyes.

"What, you just gonna leave me here on my lonesome?" He goaded once he'd deemed that I’d had more than enough time to respond, wiggling his brows from across the patio.

I was forced to blink away my tangent of thoughts then as I inhaled a deep breath. 

After hesitating for the briefest of seconds, gaze flitting from Healy’s slumped form to the fire escape and then back again, I was sure that I saw his shoulders visibly tense. He’d noticed my uncertainty and had immediately raised those shackles back up, preparing to be let down again.

And for some reason, I found that I didn’t want that. So catching the inside of my cheek between my molars, I finally tossed the butt of my cigarette to one side and ambled over. 

Healy smirked, all too pleased with himself as I nervously settled in beside him, leaving only a few centimetres space to separate us.

Not wanting to chance anything, I kept my hands plastered to the wall’s ledge, fingertips digging into the rough brick as I leant forward the tiniest little bit to scrutinise the time it would take my body to ultimately hit the asphalt below, if I so happened to fall. 

I knew it was unlikely, but still pressed my lips firmly together, knowing it would likely be entirely Healy’s fault if something were to actually occur. 

After a minute or so my heart calmed and I started to observe the way our legs dangled over the edge, side by side, swinging aimlessly above the narrow street way down below. The toes of Healy’s boots only just skimmed the jut of my ankle whenever his heels would hammer against the building’s hard exterior, close but never touching. I counted the beats.

There was a long few minutes of silence that passed between us sitting there, before Healy finally broke it, kicking the remnants of his fag far away and watching as it blurred from view.

"You come up here often then?"

A laugh broke free from me at that and I looked over. 

"That a line?" I teased, unable to help myself nor the smirk that had worked its way onto my lips, whilst Healy’s eyes widened involuntarily, clearly not having expected the cheek from me. I decided to leave the ribbing there though, not wanting to push my luck, and smiled softly at him, deciding to give him an honest answer. "But I don't know, really. It depends."

"On what?" 

"On whether or not I've got shit to do."

He hummed, fingers tapping at his knee. "Important shit?"

I couldn't quite stifle my laughter, "Yeah, important shit. Not all of us can live a lavish life up in Beverly Hills."

Healy pursed his lips at that, "Makes two of us then, fucking hate The Hills."

Surprised, my eyebrows shot up.

"Really?"

"Yes, really! It's a right shit show- the whole of fucking California is." Matty scoffed, almost stubbornly whilst shaking his head. I could see how much he meant his words though, even if they did somewhat confuse me.

"Least it's sunny though, right?"

Healy barked out a short laugh, turning his head towards me to meet my gaze head on. From this angle, I could see just how much brighter his eyes grew when he smiled, and wondered if he even realised. If anyone had told him.

"Least it's sunny." He mimicked, sounding all too amused.

I tore my eyes away. "What's so bad about California then, bigshot?"

The volume of Healy's snort actually surprised me but mercifully, I managed to hide the way I flinched before I turned my head back to face him. 

"You could ask me anything, anything in the world, but that's what you settle on?"

My mouth drew itself into a pout as I furrowed my brow and shrugged. A little put out. "Always wanted to visit the National Park?"

"Oo, got a proper little adventurer on our hands, have we? California! Home of Venice Beach, Hollywood, and the planet's fittest stars- but all you wanna do is have a quick peek around at a mound of mouldy trees and old mountains?"

Tutting at his jeering, I rolled my eyes and hummed, "I mean, it looks sort of sick, don't it?"

"Sure. If you're going on eighty."

"Fuck off." I chuckled and knocked into Healy’s shoulder, throwing him off balance slightly.

"Oi, don't think I won't push you off this roof!" He warned and a giant grin threatened to overwhelm my face.

"Do it. I'll be sure to take you with me." 

"That a threat?"

"It's a promise." I smirked.

"Oh, I don't much like those, Squeaks. You'll have to think of something better." Said Healy, tearing those eyes of his away upon noticing then just how close we'd gotten during the short span we'd spent taunting one another. 

I licked my lower lip and watched him for a moment. "What's wrong with a promise?"

"What isn't?" Healy’s eyes looked vacant as they stared hard at the skyscrapers that littered the view. "They’re simply made to be broken, aren't they?" He shrugged, his blank facade quickly returning, that glaze in his eyes fading. "Anyway, why would I take your word upon only hearing you promise? Promises aren't truth, they aren't law. They're simply empty."

There was a long pause before, "Christ, who hurt you?"

My eyes widened upon hearing my own stupid insincerity, always putting my foot in it, and was hasty in the way I immediately opened my ginormous gob to apologise, but Healy’s soft laughter stopped me short.

"Now that's a question, Mouse."

I couldn't really bring myself to reply after hearing the sadness that fuelled his words. Didn't know if I even could. But I couldn't stop my lips from quietly mouthing my own name either, sure that it had been the first time Matty had ever used it.

--

The studio felt much quieter now without Jamie’s amiable laughter or Healy's all-consuming presence to fill the space. I found myself simply standing in the centre of the room long after they’d departed, half way between the booth and the settee, wondering what to do next. 

I didn't have to pick Teddy up from the nursery for another half hour and the journey there would only take me five minutes or so. That meant that I was now somewhat at a standstill and those were rather rare when you had a toddler hanging about. 

It had just started lashing it down outside. I could hear the heavy raindrops as they splattered their way across the windowpanes and formed a shallow pond on the skylight a few feet above my head. 

It had only started spitting just as Matty and I had re-emerged from our little breakaway. My unfiltered mouth had been the beginning of an untimely end as I hadn't been able to sit there and stomach the silence much longer, having mentally scolded myself enough. 

So I'd talked Matty off the ledge (literally) and hummed softly to myself as we’d descended the stairs in a desperate attempt to break up the awkward tension that drenched me. Adi and Jamie had been waiting up for us by the window when we'd returned and Healy's manager had been in a hurry to whisk him away, grinning happily as he said his goodbyes, a mobile pressed to his ear whilst he coerced Healy down the stairs. He went without much bother.

"That went well, I reckon!" Came Adi's voice as she exited the kitchenette, holding another round of tea in her hands and a plate of bourbons too. 

She settled herself down onto the sofa and motioned for me to come join her, clicking her tongue whilst her many rings clattered against her ceramic mug. The same one she often favoured.

"Come on, sit down! I want to know the ins and outs of everything you two talked about up there! Twitter's been going positively mad ever since the show went live!"

I sighed but followed the order, taking up a perch on the edge of the settee beside her, enjoying the warmth that blanketed my hands upon being handed my own brew. The heat of it tingling my fingertips.

"It turned out okay then? No one’s started up a riot, or threatened to have my life, have they?"

Adi rolled her eyes good-naturedly in reply, laughing at my melodramatics. "Nah, you're all good, babe. Think a few of 'em actually liked you. Fancy that, hey?" 

She winked at me from over the rim of her mug but I merely hummed in return, knowing that Ads didn't miss the underlying scepticism that accompanied it.

"I'm serious, M! Apparently it's been a while since Matty's acted so genuine! Hang on, reckon that’s the right word for it?" She shrugged, answering her own question, and then barrelled on, "Either way, they're already petitioning for us to have him on again. Here just look, I'll show you."

I watched on as Adi tried to balance her scalding hot tea on the knob of her knee whilst she fumbled for her phone. I stilled it just in time before it could start tilting and she grinned up at me in thanks, now brandishing a bright screen. "Aha! Here you are. See there, babe? They adore you!"

With a scrunch of my nose, I leant in closer to peer down at the illuminated text, watching as a stream of tweets continued to flood Adi’s neverending feed. I placed my mug down onto the coffee table not long after and stole the phone from out of the girl's grasp.

M @/user1 15s Lovedlovedloved today's show!! #MouseOnAMic 

13 @/user2 23s The smiles?! How cute, he looked like he really enjoyed the interview!

Pol @/user3 29s Missed seeing Adi’s lovely face:(( But I honestly think this was one of the show's best releases!!!

Robber @/user4 37s AHHH what was that?? 

Bean @/user5 46s Um imma need a minute bc I don't think I've heard Matty talk that much in a while

197die @/user6 51s Why are they so adorable?? My heart!!

AM @/user7 1m Please bring Matty back!! @/petitesouris @/AdelineWells_

"Shit."

Adi cackled whilst I chucked her back her phone, surprised by what I’d read.

"Told you, babe! They seem to love the two of you together."

"Why are they spouting all that crap?"

Adi shrugged, exiting the app with a swipe of her thumb before switching the whole thing off. "Just the internet, ain’t it? Besides... they're not really wrong."

She laughed loudly at whatever expression must have crossed my face then and I huffed to myself, picking up my mug and shuffling over to settle further into the cushions.

"He's so painfully male though, Adi. I mean, you must've seen all the models he hangs about with."

Adi’s eyes lit up at that, looking as though I’d just mentioned that Greggs was currently handing out free sausage rolls on the nearest street corner, I raised a brow.

"Oh, I have, babe. Just didn't realise that you've been keeping tabs on him too!"

Helplessly I spluttered, almost spilling my tea in my rush to sit up. Ads tittered away, so obviously entertained by my reaction.

"I have not!"

Adi hummed sceptically, mug cradled close to her chest now, "Sure, hun, and the sun doesn’t shine out of my arse."

I flicked her arm, "I'm being honest with you- I just had to get a little background information on him for the interview! That's all."

With a slow nod and a shitty attempt to dampen her ever growing grin, Adi replied, "What, so you don't think he's fit then?"

My eyes widened and lips parted at her question. 

I couldn’t outright deny that Healy was nice to look at- he fit a certain esthetic, alright? But I also did not want Adi teasing me anymore than she already had. Especially after seeing what all of Matty’s fans had to say about the pair of us online. Was it too late to switch careers?

Besides, it was just a passing fancy sort of thing, and Healy obviously didn’t view me in the same light. That, and I had Teddy to worry about. If anything this was just a fleeting thing, I could admit that at the very least.

"He's-"

"Fit as fuck? Hotter than a rubber ring on a summer's day? Mysterious enough to lure just about any one in?" Adi interrupted, filling in the blanks. 

I blinked at her before snorting a laugh, my breath fanning the steam that slipped from my tea.

"I was going to say nice."

"Nice? Nice! Mouse, that boy is not 'nice'! Far from it! Broody and bloody stubborn, those I can get behind! But nice? No. Nice looking, sure- maybe if you were an eighty year old woman complimenting her grandson on his birthday. But not nice."

"That's the second time today I've been compared to an OAP." I acknowledged, frowning at what it might mean.

Adi's eyes snapped over to meet mine, earnest and impenetrable. "I'm bein’ serious here, Mouse."

I rolled my eyes.

She groaned loudly in return. "Come on, just admit it! He's a right looker."

I hung my head against the back of the settee, emitting a heavy sigh as I stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, alright, he’s fit.”

"I knew it! You so fancy him!"

My head snapped towards her at that and I narrowed my eyes, “I didn’t say that.”

"Didn't need to." Adi beamed all too happily, pulling a knee up to her chest, eyes gleaming. "It's called reading in between the lines, babe!"

"Ads, how- you know what, forget it. I'm not even going to begin to tell you how stupid you just sounded."

Adi harrumphed and waved off my efforts to preserve some of my dignity. "So, what are you going to do about it then? Cross your heart and hope he's down to fuck you sideways?"

I truly couldn’t help the way I grimly spat my tea back into my mug whilst I started to shake with a startled laughter. Adi, the cow, had to pull what was left of my drink away just so that I could wipe at my chin, laughing all the while.

"You're such a twat, you know that?"

Adi only grinned at me from the other end of the sofa and shrugged. "You love me for it." 

I couldn't deny that, grinning right back at her. "That I do, my love. Fancy keeping me company whilst I pick up Teddy then?"

--

Another week dragged by and my days had been nothing short of chaotic, filled with stress, tears, and toddler tantrums. 

Teddy had fallen ill on the Wednesday, all snotty nosed and high temperature. I’d had to take the day off work just to pull him out of nursery early when the school had called, leaving Adi to fend for herself for a long while. The little tike had refused to eat or drink the entire time he'd spent recuperating in my bed, and I’d been forced into bargaining with him to simply get him to take his medicine. Who claimed too much tele was bad for you anyway?

Teddy's temperature spiked on Thursday night though and I had struggled to hold back sobs of my own whilst on the phone to my mam, listening to my son shriek and cry in the background as she tried to instruct me on what to do. 

But thankfully, things had finally started looking up for us on the Friday afternoon. Teddy had asked for some toast that morning and, although I had been fearful (the sight of sick having been something I’d been forced to get over this past week), the boy had managed to keep it down. And we'd spent that evening together on the sofa, swaddled in a sea of blankets, singing quietly along to The Lion King.

Saturday and Sunday had been a whirlwind. I had spent so much time cooped up in the flat with Teddy that Finn came round Saturday morning to all but shove us out the front door. Ever the angel though, he'd treated us to a greasy fry up down at the local cafe and had even taken Teddy off of my hands for a couple of hours when Adi had texted to ask if I'd be around later on to help out with Monday's show. 

Sunday was spent keeping an eye on my rowdy four year old, who had all but bounced back to the image of perfect health- as though the previous few days had been nothing but a bad dream. Humoring Adi and I whilst we’d conjured up new ideas at the studio.

Healy’s management team had emailed about mid week, sharing some statistics and thanking the show for our ‘aid’, but it had all sounded far too condescending for my liking. Then again, most emails tended too and my mood had also been depleting rapidly ever since the segment had aired. So there was that. Adi did get a few minutes spare to email something back for me though, which I appreciated. 

Jamie had also taken the time to message too, which had brought a shocked smile to my face. I’d figured that the man must have picked up my number from Adi whilst he'd been visiting, or from someone else on his team. But I’d texted back, wishing him well, not wanting to be impolite.

But the thing is, Jamie hadn’t left it there. Which had been a somewhat welcomed surprise. Throughout the week he'd taken to messaging here and there, asking about the show, my day, taking the time to fill me in on all the good and bad parts of his own. His job seemed more than fucking stressful, but I should've guessed that much, what with him having the pleasure of having to keep up with Healy all day. I'd wondered on more than one occasion how that dynamic typically played out, but never asked.

It was around four on Monday afternoon when I found myself leaving the loft, finally having caught up on most of the crap I’d missed the last week.

Adi had long since departed, having had a commitment to get to. Something to do with helping a mate find the perfect dress for her big day, which was fast approaching, and had abandoned me the first chance she'd got, leaving me to wrap and lock up all on my lonesome.

Teddy was also off with Finn after school today, as he was most afternoons when we had to film for the show. So I’d planned to pick up a takeaway to surprise the two of them with on my way over, then stick around long enough to pester my best mate before he finally grew sick of Teddy and I and sent us on our merry way.

I was just locking up, humming a soft tune that had been stuck in my head all day, when I heard a scuffle sound around the corner. I only looked up once I'd tugged on the handle hard enough to make sure all was well, but was startled to find a familiar face staring back at me.

"Shit. You proper scared me!" I breathed out heavily, a hand coming up to rest over my beating heart whilst my eyes wandered over Matty’s hunched form.

The singer was clad in the same heavy jacket he'd been wearing the last time we'd met, an oversized hoodie and jeans too, as well as a pair of dark sunnies which blended effortlessly into a black beanie that hid his hair from view. 

"What are you doing here?" I questioned and could hear the shock that lined my voice as I stepped out onto the pavement to join the singer, who had since propped himself up against the side of my building.

"Was in the area." Was all Matty gave away, but he kicked off of the wall to shove his hands into his trouser pockets when I approached.

"You were in the area and just so happened to end up here?" I asked, bemused. My eyes glanced up and down the narrow backstreet to see if anyone else was mulling about long enough to recognise ‘the singer from that one band’ before they retreated back to him.

Healy tilted his head to one side, "That alright?"

He looked far too nonchalant, as though he had a tendency to drop in at every radio station he'd wound up commandeering over the years, making me feel stupid for not having expected it.

I had to force out a little laugh, unsure on how to reply exactly. "Yeah- I mean, sure. Just, I don't know, I didn't expect to ever see you again."

Healy's mouth quirked ever so slightly to one side at that but he hid it in the way he cocked his chin towards the highstreet a way ahead. "Where you off to?"

"Um," I swallowed, pausing for a moment to tug at my jacket sleeve so that I could take a quick look at my watch. "Well, I've got about an hour before I've got to be somewhere, but nowhere right this minute."

Maybe I was being presumptuous. Bold even. But why else would he be here? 

I lifted my head back up and found Healy already watching me, and if the man had noticed the scars that marred my wrist he didn't say anything, simply nodded.

"Got time to grab a coffee then?" He suggested and I, even in my dazed surprise, somehow dipped my head in slight agreement.

"Sure." I answered, albeit a little breathlessly.

We walked together, me just a step ahead as we emerged from the sidestreet which housed the studio. I caught himself waiting for someone else to catch onto the fact that the infamous Matty Healy was walking amongst us commoners. But no one seemed to be any the wiser, Matty's all black get-up allowed him to move about the city almost inconspicuously, letting me shepherd him into a nearby bakery without any fuss at all.

"Why don't you go grab us a table and I'll order?" I found myself saying as we stepped into the shop.

Healy stared at me for a long moment before he finally nodded. Quietly asking for a simple coffee as I wandered over to join the queue.

Joanna's bakery had been around for decades now, or so I’d been told, shacked up between ever changing franchises and fast food chains. It had become a long loved favourite of mine since having moved to London, I'd found it during my time at uni and it had truly been a godsend throughout the first few weeks of having baby Teddy. Joanna's coffee had been the only thing keeping me afloat way back then.

I gave a bright grin when the woman’s greying hair came into view, eyes catching mine from behind a pair of spectacles Teddy, for some odd reason, seemed fascinated by whenever we dropped in.

"Hello, you." The ageing woman greeted me with a sweet smile. "Good to see you're doing well, and how is young Teddy?"

"He's doing fine, thank you, Joa. Just overcame a bout of flu." I informed her, hip checking the wooden counter that housed a row of cabinets. "Been a hectic couple of days."

Joanna's brows lifted and her thin lips pursed in concern as she tucked a tea-towel into her navy apron. "I can only assume so. He's doing well now though, I hope?"

I waved off her unnecessary worry with a fond smile, "Right as rain, racing around without a care in the world today. Me though? I’m still trying to get over it- not that he realises.” I chuckled, “He gave me quite the scare, if I'm being honest."

"Kids tend to do that. But Mouse, my dear, you should have called! I would have had some soup sent over for him."

With an appreciative grin, I thanked her, knowing that there was no falseness in her offer, "I'll remember that for next time, I'm sure Teds would've loved it."

Joanna returned my sentiment with a gentle nod before the sound of the shop's bell rang over the door, announcing another customer. "Well then, what can I get for you, dove?"

I exhaled, glancing up towards the blackboarded menu mostly out of habit, "One regular coffee, please-"

"Isn't it a bit late in the day for coffee? You'll be up all night." Joanna scolded lightly, cutting me off, I couldn't help the soft chuckle I gave. Forever humoured by the women in my life constantly telling me what to do.

"Not for me, Joa, don't you worry." I hurried to assure her before prattling off the rest of my order without another interruption once Joanna had hummed in a quiet understanding. 

"Takeaway?" She prompted, but I shook my head, gesturing over my shoulder towards the many tables behind.

"We'll sit in, if that's okay."

Joanna blinked in surprise, obviously not having seen me enter with anybody. "I didn't realise Adeline had come in, I usually hear her."

I gave a peel of laughter at that but was quick to press my lips together. "No, no. No Adi today, I'm with a new friend."

The older woman smiled at me as she pushed her glasses further up her nose, "I see."

My head tilted in confusion at odd her tone but left it be. "Could I also get some of that famous chocolate cake of yours while I'm at it? Two slices, please."

"Of course, I'll have it sent right over."

I grinned and waited until I'd paid and Joanna had turned her back on me before shoving my change into the tip jar. 

It was an ongoing thing between us, the first time I'd tried to leave anything behind she'd sent me on my way with an entire tray of carrot cake. I had been more than grateful for the unexpected gift but it didn't take me long before I realised what the older woman had been up to. So I'd taken to sneaking my tips into the jar whenever she wasn't looking. Joanna though, it seemed, had eyes in the back of her head, so she chose to repay this act with a multitude of free treats, often gifted through Teddy so that I was unable to decline.

Picking up the two mugs Joanna set down on the counter, I was then promptly shooed away. So, shaking my head and chuckling softly, I turned without another word said and bypassed a crowd of customers that had since entered the bakery, in search of Matty. 

I found him seated at a booth in the very far back, having shucked off his jacket and glasses now that he had his back turned towards the rest of the room. Though he’d kept the beanie, I noted.

Steeling the nerves I felt, I settled the drinks down on the table and smiled apologetically when I saw that Matty had startled at the sound.

"One plain black coffee. Didn't know whether you wanted any sugar or not, so I stashed some sachets away just in case." I laughed before upending a supply of sugar packets from my pocket onto the table. 

He simply laughed as he reached out to take two. "Cheers."

I dipped my head and worked on pouring a few splashes of milk into my own brew. I was just stirring when someone approached, almost instantly I found myself grinning at the sight.

"Mouse! My, it's been a while, what ever did we do to deserve such a pleasure?" Cassie greeted me with a delighted smile, settling two small plates onto the table before rounding it to pull me into a hug.

Laughing softly, I wrapped an arm around her neck and enjoyed the way she squeezed me tight, a fixture that accompanied every one of her hugs, before we parted. "Only been a week since you last saw me, Cas. Don't act as though you've missed me."

Cassie gifted me with a wink and beaming grin before she pivoted and turned to catch a glance at my tagalong.

I watched as her eyes widened briefly, obviously not having expected this particular visitor to be staring back at her, but she was professional enough to conceal her shock.

"Well, this is a first." Cassie announced, still smiling away whilst she looked between the two of us sat at the table. "Can't remember the last time you brought us a new visitor, Mouse. You must be special- I'm Cassie, by the way."

Healy's eyes darted between the hand the waitress had extended out and myself. I tried for an encouraging smile but wasn't exactly sure if I’d managed to pull it off or not. 

Cassie, as lovely as she was, was definitely a shock to an introvert’s system. I’d learnt that lesson all too quickly. But Healy had handled Adi with ease and she was levels above Cassie, the bright eyed woman standing before us now almost seemed shy in comparison, in truth.

"Matty." He forced out as he took Cas’s hand in his own, "Great to meet you."

He cleared his throat when his palm returned to cradling the inside of his cup and Cassie smiled sweetly at him.

"Good to meet you too, Matty. I hope you enjoy the cake, it's a favourite of M's." She chuckled, nudging the plate closest towards me. "I hear it's all she ever raves about."

I grinned impishly as I picked up my spoon and bit down on a mouthful of chocolate delight. "And it's all I ever will rave about. Nothing compares to Joa’s gâteau."

Cassie rolled her eyes at me but tittered, "I know, I know, we've heard it all before! I'll leave you both to it then, the life of a waitress waits for no one. Hope you enjoy the food though- and again, it was nice to meet you Matty, don't be a stranger."

With that she waltzed off, but not without throwing a gleeful grin over her shoulder that only I was meant to see. 

I wrinkled my mouth to keep from reacting outwardly before deciding to focus back on my dessert. 

"Sorry about her." I felt the need to murmur, glancing across the table.

Healy shook his head, smiling slightly. "Don't, she seemed nice."

I couldn't help my short laugh, recalling an earlier conversation had with Adi. "Oh she's nice, all right."

Healy didn't comment on my strange reaction, only arched a questioning brow and pulled his cake in closer.

"You know, you pronounced that in perfect French."

"Pronounced what?" I quizzed, already scooping up another spoonful.

"Gâteau." Healy informed, botching the imitation, fingertips poised over the rim of his plate.

"Yeah, and?"

He shook his head again, "Just caught me off guard is all. You speak it then, fluently?"

Tongue in my cheek, I nodded. "Mam's from a tiny village in Alsace."

"Wow. So how'd you end up with that accent then?"

I breathed out an airy laugh, "What's that meant to mean, Manc? Is it too crass for the likes of your wellbred ears?"

Healy's eyes, honest to God, bulged as he fought not to trip over his own tongue in an attempt to mend his minced words. 

"No, no, I just meant-"

"I know what you meant. Don't worry." I chuckled, taking pity seeing as I’d already shot back. "I’m only having you on. She met my dad there when he was visiting, but the two of them moved when they married."

"Oh. That's good, I ‘spose. She loved him enough to follow him home."

I hollowed my cheeks and focused my stare on my chocolate smeared spoon. 

"Wouldn't put it quite like that, but yeah she loved him. Even after he fucked off."

With a cluck of my tongue, I pushed the cake away and focused instead on my drink.

"I'm sorry."

Frowning for a split second, I forced out a breath and the emotions that had roused back down, then put on a brave face. Determined not to think about it any longer than I had to.

"No, don’t be. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. Just, hard to talk about is all." I scratched at the grain etched into the wooden table.

"Nah, I get that." Healy assured with a shrug, "Don't have to apologise for it though, you have a right to your emotions."

For some reason, that reply surprised me and I had to fight back the urge to say whatever was on the tip of my tongue. I merely nodded instead and went back to picking at the cake.

"Fuck. That's good."

My head snapped up at the audible moan that Healy emitted and found the man pulling a chocolate coated silver spoon from his lips.

"What the fuck do they put in this?" He questioned me, eyes wide as he heaped another helping into his mouth.

"No idea." I laughed, watching closely now.

"Whatever it is, it's fucking good."

And with that, the tension was broken. Healy practically inhaled his serving of cake whilst I portioned mine, smiling around every mouthful. We made small talk as we sipped our drinks quietly, ignoring everyone else bustling about the bakery. 

It wasn't long before I finally found the balls to ask the question I'd been meaning to ask ever since Matty had shown up outside the studio though.

"So, can I ask why you decided to pay me a visit now? Or, is it all top secret? Like hush hush."

His lips twisted before he replied, "Don't have an actual answer for you. Had a shitty day and ended up storming off, didn't even realise I'd wandered so far from the recording studio until I caught sight of one of the backroads we'd taken to get to your loft the other day.” He shrugged, finger toying with the near empty cup. “Was faced with the choice of finding the nearest pub and getting pissed, or seeing if you were in. It was a toss up."

"And I won?" I found myself asking, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"Would seem so."

"Happy I could help, then. The former wouldn't have done you much good."

Healy’s eyes met mine then and his gaze flickered across the length of my face. 

I couldn't really place the expression he wore and almost had a small fit when I wondered over whether or not he was looking at my scars, but found that I didn't care much. Which was odd and had me feeling self conscious all over again.

"No, I don't suppose it would've."

It took a second for me to connect the dots, to remember what I’d even said, but when I did I smiled.

Not long after polishing off our drinks, I suggested we take a walk to burn off the cake we’d piled on. But in reality, I had just realised that without the big jacket and sunglasses it was hard to miss the marvel that was Matty Healy sitting in an old Islington bakery.

Matty had been all for the idea and so together we’d exited the bakery, me calling out my goodbyes to Joanna and Cassie when I passed. The older woman’s gaze lingered on Matty’s retreating form but she bid us nothing but a soft nod with her quiet farewell.

We wasted what was left of the hour I had wandering down backroads, just taking in the city and talking between ourselves. I picked up on where Matty had been raised, in a large house in a town just south of Manchester. He hadn’t lingered too long on the topic of his family, either reasoning that I already knew about it or preferring not to, but I was more than happy to tell Matty about my mum. Recalling stories of my youth, of Christmases spent in our tiny cottage, and summers down by the creek. 

It was to my own wasted effort, not trying to focus too many of my questions on Matty’s career, because a lot of what surrounded him came from or was to do with being in the limelight. From his friends and social circle, to his everyday life. Matty’s hobby had and always would be music, that much was incredibly clear to me, only he’d just been lucky enough to make a career out of it.

Before long, I realised that our time was finally up and I was left observing the way Matty toed the edge of the curb just outside of the busy train station.

Surprisingly, Matty had wanted to walk me all the way there, just to make sure that I could arrive and board the train with all my limbs still intact. And, to his credit, he’d done exactly that, even with all of my amused reassurance that I’d be fine and did it daily.

But in truth, it was just me being overly concerned about someone recognising who Matty really was and starting a crazed frenzy. In my head all I could see was him disappearing into an ocean of teenage girls that suddenly swarmed him, calling out for help. 

I would be well and truly fucked if something were to happen to Matty whilst he was under my watch.

"You know," I began, staring up at the dark haired man before me. Noticing then that Matty, although older, looked an awful lot younger in that very moment. "I am glad you picked me."

He stared back at me, dark shades tucked into the lining of his jacket now. “That so?”

My cheeks bunched as I tried to dim my smile.

"Yeah," I confirmed with a soft chuckle, "Strange as it was at first, I surprisingly enjoyed myself."

"Surprisingly? I'm glad." Matty smiled, a small thing that wrinkled the corners of his eyes as he tugged at his ear. "I did too."

I returned the gesture, chest tightening.

The pavement rumbled beneath our feet then, meaning yet another train had pulled into the station beneath us and the Underground didn't wait around for anyone. I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I’d best be on the next one in hopes of making it to Finn's at a decent hour but I was unable to leave Matty just yet. 

"You gonna be okay getting home?" I wondered, gaze skirting over the many heads that crowded the street as a dozen other people filed out of the station doors. "I mean, have you got money for a cab or something? Someone to call?"

I flushed when Matty laughed at my unnecessary concern, suddenly embarrassed by the thought of sounding like my mother. I bit back the urge to outwardly cringe.

"I'll be alright, babe. I'll have someone pick me up. Thanks though."

I dipped my head in understanding and then shoved my cold hands deeper into the pockets of my coat, rocking back and forth slightly. "So I'll be seeing you then?"

"Would you want to?"

I blinked, surprised by the question. Or maybe by the way Matty had phrased it.

“What d’you mean? What, did you just figure I'd spend an hour with you, dash off, and then never speak to you again? If it's alright, I actually wouldn't mind keeping in contact. It's not like Jamie doesn't already talk my ear off everyday, so what's adding you into the mix gonna do?"

“Hang on. Jamie? As in my Jamie? Jamie, Jamie? Manager Jamie, he actually messages you?” Matty immediately quizzed and at my mirthful nod, he shook his head in disbelief. “The dickhead!”

"He never mentioned it?" I thought to ask, unable to stifle my growing laughter.

"No he fucking didn't!" Matty replied with his tongue pressed against his top teeth. But his mouth was still curled upwards as he continued to shake his head, and so I took his reaction with a pinch of salt.

"Well, sorry to have been the one to break it to you then."

Matty snorted and lifted his eyes, hazy brown holding my stare. “Nah, it’s fine. Honestly just fucked off he got your number before I even had the chance to ask."

My eyebrows shot upwards, unsure on how to take that. "Um, well. I mean you could still ask?"

The minuscule smile Matty had been wearing switched into a full blown smirk at my stuttered words and I saw the challenge in his stare when he stealthily stepped closer.

"Well then, Squeaks. Would you do me the honour of giving me your number, or you gonna have me beg in front of all these people?"

I huffed a breathy laugh as I pulled my mobile out, handing it over to him without a second thought.

The way his face lit up caught me off balance and I could only watch on whilst Matty rushed to type an assortment of numbers into the device.

“What are you doing?” I suddenly asked, ginning when Matty angled the phone out in front of him.

He paused to glance over, shooting me a mischievous grin, one that had my stomach flipping at the very sight- and shit, if that wasn't a bad sign. But I could only focus on Matty now, on the way his grin changed his entire face, the haughty arrogance he had once carried fading alongside the sharp, sunken lines of his profile. It brought a pretty colour to his cheeks and brightened the shadows that stormed his eyes. 

It was hard to look away.

“Need a photo, don’t I?” Matty retorted easily, “How else you gonna know it’s me phoning?”

I was honestly somewhat startled by the sudden difference I saw in Matty then, in the confidence he now held, the very same that appeared in the videos I’d seen of him up on stage. In the good natured teasing and wit he shot out that had me struggling to form a valid response.

“Messaged myself too,” Matty explained, pulling me from my observation. “So all we need now, is a photo of you.”

Sure enough, when I pulled my full focus back to Matty, or on what he was now saying rather, I found him there holding his own phone up towards me.

"Come on, give us a smile then, mardarse." Matty mocked and I scoffed in return, the corners of my mouth twitching at the sound of his accent becoming more prominent. 

“God, you’re a right prat.” I rebuked, but it was softened by the mad grin I wore as I knuckled Matty’s elbow. “Fine, go on then, but make sure you get my good side, Healy!”

"But every side is your good side!"

I simply rolled my eyes at the exaggeration then leant in as near as I could to the camera so that it could get a close up of the face I made. Hands still tucked into my pockets and eyes now staring directly into the lens, I pooled my tongue out like a panting dog as I tilted my head to the side.

Matty’s bark of laughter echoed out across the highstreet, loud enough that it had a few heads turning, but no one paid much mind to a man who now had his face buried in his phone, gazing down at the picture he had just snapped.

"Good enough?" I asked, rubbing at my nose and glancing about as the self doubt began to seep in now that the fun was over.

Matty raised his head, and I reckoned that my pulse must have stuttered when I caught a glimpse of his wide eyes and bright smile. 

"Perfect."

[vesora]

is law of assumption real? yeah

i have come across an individual vilifying the loa community and i find their statements kinda funny and stupid but i love having my beliefs challenged bc i can know why i believe in this. please also read my response to this other girl who thought loa ppl were crazy. it is ok to think if it’s crazy. ur welcome to criticize it. also, i am using aesthetic pictures bc of my ocd, i need things to be divided.

this is for the people who want to listen whether LOA is real from MY perspective:

firstly, i was primed for law of assumption from a young age. this means that i experienced many and i mean MANY spiritual things from a young age. i saw spirits (not hallucinations, it was my dead grandma who i had never seen and i described her down to her ring to my dad and he started crying because it was her), started speaking french at random points without ever having consciously learned the language, heard random piano compositions in my ear which i had never heard before, had visions which protected me/warned me about the future/informed me about the future and many manyyy more things. this proves to me the power of the subconscious mind.

the difference between someone who was born with their third eye awakened versus someone who has no spiritual experiences + is not open-minded to it, is that they will view spiritual phenomena from a materialistic practical sense.

this is saddening, because humans before being impacted by materialism were so spiritual and we were the ones who created the pyramids and all the structures you see on earth. we did that.

anyways,

is it real?

my opinion: yes. 

no i am not in a cult waiting to pounce on the next vulnerable piece of meat. in fact, my future career is removing people out of cults and helping trafficking victims but anyways.

i have manifested things far beyond logic. you know how and why? because manifestation is the most basic human trait. and awakening to the fact that you are the creator of your reality is the most liberating amazing feeling and practice. i manifested one of my dying cats becoming free of cancer. that is not luck. that is manifestation. i manifested bad circumstances away. not luck, manifestation. i manifested all my exes leaving me the SAME way because i had assumed they would. not a coincidence, manifestation. there is definitely a lot we don’t know about the universe. i can’t say with certainty that all things are attributed to us which is also why i hate any form of victim blaming. but one thing is for sure is that humans have more control over our lives than we think. we don’t need a divine presence outside of us to dictate us the circumstances in OUR lives.

also, law of assumption is not law of attraction. law of attraction is “AHHH DONT THINK BAD THOUGHTS OR U WILL GET BAD JUJU” very fear-based, also seen in dogmatic religions. law of assumption uses a CBT based approach to change assumptions and therefore, influence reality. you have every right to not believe in this and even chastise me for it, i understand. however, i know this is real for me.

i was a victim of many racist attacks, however, as soon as i decided that the outside world is safe for me, i never had ONE negative experience. is this a coincidence? not for me, no. this is a human taking control of their life. this is a human not bound by societal expectations and leaning into divine energy and expressing the truest essence of one’s self. i am not blaming myself for being a victim, it is the racist’s fault. i am not blaming other victims, it is the perpetrators’ fault. however, if there is any fucking chance i can help a victim, i will take it, i do NOT care.

things i manifested regarding other people towards me:

1. no more racism towards me, family and friends.

2. parents being emotionally available with me

3. my friends expressing affection the way i want them to

4. my mum making me the exact food i visualised many times

5. my professor saying the exact words to me as i visualised

6. my friends saying to me the exact words i visualised

7. this guy flirting with me out of nowhere because i visualised it

8. and many more stuff this shit is too easy so

maybe i feel this strongly because i am a fighter for the working class. my main goal in life is to help liberate all oppressed people. if there is any chance that it can be done by mind, i would take it. would you not? would you not help people by the means you have helped yourself?

how can you so strongly and with such conviction without ever practising the law come to a conclusion that is a harmful new age ideology when the maxim prevalent in so many esoteric practices (yes, non-white too) have preached that reality is made by the mind? will we ignore the science behind it too? will we ignore the cia declassified documents? will we ignore ancient accounts of reality shifting? will we ignore hermes trismegistus? will we ignore rumi? will we ignore plato? 

you can ignore this. i won’t, however. this is the liberation of the human soul. having said this, anyone is welcome to criticise the LOA community, look at us as vultures, think we are crazy. i value all opinions (even if they’re wrong HAHA sorry). 

how is loa different from dogmatic religion?

well for one, there is evidence for conscious manifestation (e.g. dr joe dispenza’s books). i personally do not like religion. i have religious trauma so if you are religious, id advise you to not read this section. abrahamic religion is based on fear to oppress minorities, trap human potential and it also makes you rely on luck and wishful thinking (this view is only if the holy books were to be taken in the literal sense and abused by ministers etc) whereas the human is able to decide its own fate. law of assumption liberates the human by putting the human from an us vs them view to an us AND them view, meaning everyone is one and the same. this is not a christian thing, this is a well documented thing featured in asian philosophy. consciousness is the thing that unites us all. it is within you and it is within me. religion (abrahamic) forces you to look at the people who are not like you, aka dont believe what you do, as these other creatures who have defied the will of God and ahhh will face wrath. LOA instead empowers the individual and promotes free will. i understand if you think this is dangerous, the woo-woo stuff, just dont practise it.

how is loa not a cult?

loa CAN be misused in a cult but on its own it is not a cult. no one in the loa community is forcing the individual to join this practice which lowkey is just manifestation. however, i get your concerns and i advise you to read this reply: x

i wish i took pics of my cat when she was sick so i could provide u guys evidence but of course i didnt take any pics.

anyone is welcome to leave. anyone is welcome to adjust loa to their lives the way they see fit.

the void state

i doubt that so many people are lying about manifesting in the void state. i do think it’s not a big deal but i definitely don’t think it’s fake. besides, whats the harm in trying?

thing is right, if you are not garnering results or whatever, u dont need to stay. i stayed regardless of whether i manifested my shit instantly or not (which in the beginning was hard for me) because i believed in the philosophy, it resonated with me and it didn’t make me alienate my fellow man. however, if you feel you have a chance of being manipulated here or idk what, don’t join this practice. seriously, it’s okay. i am not being sarcastic or anything, because you are welcome to stay or leave. you are welcome to compliment me or insult me. i will love you either way for you are my fellow man.

also this is so random and a general thing but only psychoanalytic/psychodynamic psychologists use the subconsciously thing.